


Return to Rogue's Mountain

by Chichirinoda



Series: Rogue's Mountain [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: But the rest of the character list stands, Christmas, Collars, Eddie's not dead and you can fight me, F/M, Humour, I reserve the right to add more pairings, Legitimately not sure how important Jay will be to this story, M/M, Possibly actual ghosts this time?, Rogues still being Rogues, Still tropey as fuck, Survival Horror, fUCK ME
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 73,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8745691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chichirinoda/pseuds/Chichirinoda
Summary: With Leonard in prison, Barry's Christmas is shaping up to be a lot less enjoyable than last year's - and last year he was kidnapped, auctioned off by a pack of villains and held prisoner for a week! And now it seems like there's going to be a Christmas tradition of kidnapping Barry Allen - only this time, Cisco's caught up in it all.Well, I sure hope there aren't any angry ghosts where he's going this year...





	1. You Forgot about Weather Wizard

**Author's Note:**

> I've been resisting actually writing this for a long time, primarily because I had this weird delusion that if I didn't let myself write this story, I would actually work on original fiction. Then, this morning, two things happened:
> 
> a) I realized I had the perfect title for this story AND for the third and final story in the trilogy, and; 
> 
> b) My wife hit me over the head and told me to stop being stupid and write some fanfiction.
> 
> She was right, of course.
> 
> I can't promise that this will update as quickly as the last one, but I did write over 3000 words today, so... off we go!

“So what’s the plan for Christmas this year, Barr?” Cisco was in his usual spot, feet up on the desk and a lollypop stick protruding from the corner of his mouth - the lollypop was nothing more than a thin, bright yellow shell surrounding the chewy tootsie-roll centre, but Cisco refused to crunch down and leave off his lifelong quest to actually count the number of licks it took him. 

A palpable gloom descended on the room. Caitlin hissed quellingly at him like a cat. Jay and Harry exchanged confused looks. Joe glared fixedly at nothing. Barry bit his lip. 

“What?” Cisco asked, scowling at his computer screen on which there was a frustrating lack of metahuman threats to break the tension. But someone had to say it, right? It was the twenty-third and no one was talking about it. Caitlin poked him, and he flapped a hand at her, determined. “Are we doing dinner at Joe’s or…?”

He knew very well what had caused the reaction. When Barry had been kidnapped the year before by the Rogues, everyone back home had basically lost their minds with worry. Of course, it had all turned out okay - if by “okay” you mean that Barry had wound up in a pretty baffling relationship with Captain Cold and Joe was still Not Speaking about it and basically pretending that Snart didn’t exist. And then the whole thing had happened with Lewis, and Snart had murdered his father - not without some justification, but still - and Barry had had to put him in Iron Heights for it.

Cisco hadn’t been able to worm it out of his best friend as of yet, but he had to figure that throwing your boyfriend in jail would put a strain on your relationship. He suspected that Barry might be visiting Snart from time to time, but if he was, he wasn’t owning up to it. 

“I was thinking I could do a turkey,” Joe said finally, breaking the silence.

Barry breathed out audibly, and smiled. “That’d be _great_ , Joe.” He looked around, a cheer on his face that Cisco suspected was not as bright as he pretended. “We all trimmed the tree last weekend. The house looks totally amazing.”

“Awesome,” Cisco said, and his teeth accidentally crunched through the hair-thin shell of his tootsie-roll pop. “Damnit.”

“’Trimmed the tree’?” Jay asked, and Caitlin launched eagerly into a long explanation of Earth-prime Christmas traditions. 

Amidst the distraction of educating the Earth-2 people about the season, Barry’s phone buzzed and he stepped away. Cisco wasn’t really paying attention, until he heard him say ‘Hartley’, and then it was like the laser focus in his brain zeroed in on Barry’s conversation. 

“He what?” Barry breathed, and Cisco _saw_ the blood drain from his face. Apparently that was really a thing. “Oh my god. Is he okay? I— Yeah, I’ll. I’ll be right there.”

Cisco jumped up from his seat and slipped away. Barry was walking - normal pace, not speeding, which meant he didn’t want everyone to notice him Flashing off - towards the door. He caught up, and grabbed Barry by the shoulder.

“Everything okay, buddy?” They were still walking, and Barry didn’t say anything until they were in the elevator. Cisco spotted Joe looking at them out of the corner of his eye, and tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed. Only once the doors closed did Barry sag against the wall, running a hand over his face. 

“Len was in a fight,” Barry said. In those five words, about three million of Cisco’s questions were answered. Barry was definitely still dating Captain Cold. And he was definitely still in love with him. The pain and worry in his face was no different than if he were talking about Iris being hurt, or Joe, or heck, Cisco himself.

Well, Cisco wouldn’t judge - actually, that was a lie, he judged a lot. But there wasn’t much he could do about it, and Cisco wasn’t about to try to go out of his way to convince Barry that Snart was bad news. They all knew that. But maybe he wasn’t as bad news as some, these days.

Barry sounded like he was on the edge of crying, actually. He tugged his cowl up and over his head, covering his face as he prepared to leave the building as the Flash. “Hartley called to tell me. He’s in the prison hospital. I don’t even know… I mean, what if he—”

“Barry…” Cisco stepped closer, looking up at his friend. “Hey, man, it’s gonna be okay. He’s tough.” He was talking out of his ass, though. Snart was human like anyone, and it wasn’t like the doctors in prison were super motivated.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped outside, shivering in the icy air. Neither of them had thought to put on a coat. Cisco knew he should let Barry go, head back inside where it was warm while Barry ran to Iron Heights, but he didn’t want to leave Barry alone, either. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked. “You want me to run interference with Joe and stuff?”

Barry glanced at him over his shoulder, smiling warmly. Snow fell thickly around them, and a cold wind kicked up, sending the snow dancing in flurries. “Yeah, thanks, Cisco. I’m just gonna go and check things out, make sure they’re doing all they can, you know?”

“I know, I—” Cisco stopped. Something was wrong. The wind was rising, higher and higher. It was _freezing_ , and they had hit nearly white-out conditions within seconds, yet when Cisco had been monitoring upstairs, there wasn’t any sign of snow on the radar.

The back of his neck prickled, and it had nothing to do with the cold. He and Barry whirled around, and there was Mark Mardon, a chunk of ice floating above his right palm and a malicious grin on his face. “Hello, Flash,” he purred. “You brought a friend.”

Barry gasped suddenly, and grabbed Cisco’s arm. Cisco looked, and saw a masked figure that had come up behind them. A tree-trunk-like arm encircled Barry and a needle flashed as it was pulled out of his neck. Barry sagged, eyes rolling towards the back of his head, and his hand slipped off as he went limp.

Cisco lunged at the attacker, knowing it was futile. The guy was _huge_ , built like a pro wrestler. Barry was clearly no burden to him, and he was already pulling him up into a fireman’s carry. Cisco didn’t have a weapon, not even a fake one. What the hell was he going to do?

He didn’t even get far enough to get his ass beaten by the guy, though. Something slammed hard into the back of Cisco’s head before he’d taken more than half a step, and he crumpled to the snow. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he knew it was that ice ball. 

_You…forgot about Weather Wizard, idiot…_ was his last thought, as he sank down into frigid oblivion.


	2. You're Collateral Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, the Flash has been kidnapped!

Leonard Snart had been waiting for this since a visibly shaking Warden had supervised his move to an exterior, private cell two days before. 

He lay on his bed, listening. There was a lot of shouting in a jail - so much that he had learned long ago to tune it out. He and Mick had learned to sleep right through a riot when they were teenagers. But now he lay still and alert and listened to its quality, like he was memorizing a musical piece.

Because _this_ shouting was _outside_. 

It grew closer, accompanied by the rattle-and-pop of gunfire. And then, underneath that - screams.

Len sat up, calmly dragged the mattress off of his bed, and propped it up against the bare metal frame of his bed. Then he climbed up onto the frame and crouched behind the mattress.

Five minutes later, his wall exploded. Chunks of masonry hit the mattress and landed on the floor.

He stood up. Snow blew in from outside, flavoured with smoke and the barest tang of Kyle Nimbus. 

Lisa stepped primly over the rubble and tossed a bag at him with one hand. The other held her gold gun resting against her shoulder.

“Thanks, sis,” he said, and unzipped the bag. He dragged the loose black slacks and shirt on right over his prison garb, and covered that in his favourite parka. At the bottom of the bag was his cold gun. 

“Come on, Lenny,” she said. A klaxon alarm had finally begun to sound. Len wondered what had taken so long. “We gotta go.”

“I’m ready.” He stuffed the empty bag in his pocket and followed her. The moment he stepped outside, he answered his own question - the entire grounds of the prison was in total chaos.

Red-eyed prison guards were fighting each other viciously in little murderous knots all around. A large green cloud had taken over the nearest guard tower, the gas swirling against the windows as guards fled, some of them jumping several feet in their panic to escape the poison cloud. In the midst of it all, James Jesse strode, occasionally lobbing a small bomb, apparently just to keep things interesting.

“Let’s pull out,” Len shouted. The guards were far too occupied to notice him, but the Rogues immediately began to move in his direction. He counted heads casually as they walked across the grounds, stepped through a cut-out section of the fencing and piled into a large, black van.

Hartley was in the back, an array of equipment surrounding him, which he was already in the middle of shutting down. Axel was in the driver’s seat, looking peeved that he hadn’t been able to join in the fun. 

Len looked around. “Where’s—” Shawna Baez poofed into existence in a cloud of black smoke, sitting in the passenger seat, and he revised his question. “Mardon. And Mick?”

“Who cares? What, you think we needed _everyone_ for a job this easy?” Lisa asked with a laugh, eyes dancing. 

The van peeled away with a lingering scent of burned rubber and bounced down the gravel road. Len heard the faint sounds of sirens approaching the prison, but considering how much chaos had been caused, he wasn’t concerned. By the time the fuzz figured out that the attackers had just been after Len, and got organized enough to start a proper manhunt, he’d be long gone.

“Well,” Len said, leaning back against the wall of the van and surveying his Rogues. “You all did good tonight, so thanks. What took you so long?”

Hartley plunked himself down next to Len, setting a large case containing all his hacking equipment in front of him. “There were uh, a few challenges to overcome in the planning stages…”

“I had to learn how to tone it down,” Bivolo said softly, pushing his yellow glasses up. “Just a _little_ angry, not too much.”

“And my _son_ and I had to build a few hundred _flashbangs_ ,” James declared in an offended tone. “Lisa _insisted_ that the only _real_ bomb be the one that took out your cellblock wall.”

“And I had to be…convinced,” Nimbus said coolly, eyes narrowing at Lisa, who blew him a kiss.

Len stared. “You…didn’t kill _anyone_? Not even you?” He stared at Nimbus, who shook his head.

“Well,” Lisa said carelessly, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I suppose accidents are possible. But that was the plan.”

“Those are the rules, right Snart?” Shawna said. She had her feet on the dash, and Axel kept staring sidelong at her legs. Well, so long as he kept them on the road - Shawna didn’t seem to care that he was looking.

Len settled back, bemused. “Those are the rules,” he agreed. He glanced at Lisa, who was looking _immensely_ smug. “So where are we headed?”

Lisa leaned forward, the smugness vanishing like smoke. “Actually, the real reason we busted you out tonight, Lenny… Your cutie’s been kidnapped.”

Len stiffened, and stared around at the various faces. Everyone looked fairly serious, though quite a few of the Rogues rolled their eyes. Of course, none of them would be all that concerned if the Flash was in danger. “So what?” he demanded, struggling to maintain his usual cool demeanor. “Isn’t that what STAR Labs is for?”

Lisa punched him in the shoulder. Hard. “They saved my life, Lenny,” she snapped. “Don’t you think we owe them a little help when we can offer some?”

He yelped and rubbed his shoulder. Even through the parka, that one had stung. “I’m not saying I’m not gonna help, sis.”

“Good,” she said, and turned away, beginning to check over her gold gun. “Because we’re on our way to where he’s being held right now. I figure we’ll go in, get this done, and save Christmas.”

There was a general grunt of agreement about that, and Len decided to hold his tongue for now. Lisa had obviously latched onto this, and anyway they _had_ broken him out of prison. Maybe Lisa was right. Perhaps this was a good way to celebrate his escape from Iron Heights - get out there, save the Flash and deliver him to his grateful friends and family - and maybe the awkwardness that had developed since his father broke out of prison would go away. 

That thought brought with it a mess of emotions. Len held his cold gun and stared down at the floor as they bumped and jostled along towards who-the-fuck-knew-where. 

Barry had come to visit him a few times in prison, but of course the visits were brief and they couldn’t say much that mattered with the guards listening in. Len didn’t ask why it wasn’t more frequent. Naturally, the kid felt obligated, but things had never been fully comfortable. After all, the kid was practically a cop, in a family of cops, none of whom approved of Len. Barry was loyal, so sweetly loyal, but Len knew that the cold way Joe had ordered him out of the house at New Year’s had never gotten better. From what Barry told him, they had simply resorted to a Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy - Barry didn’t mention dating Len, and Joe pretended that Len didn’t exist.

It was hurting Barry. Len could see that. But he was too selfish to break it off himself, in the face of Barry’s insistence that Joe would one day come around.

It had probably been easier for Barry, with Len in prison. 

Normal conversation returned slowly, various murmurings that Len didn’t mostly catch over the road noise. The van was cramped and dark as they drove, and got darker as the lights of Central City were left behind. Wherever Barry was being held, it wasn’t close by. They passed through the suburbs and satellite communities around the city, into what seemed to be a more rural area. 

Axel turned, and turned again. Shawna pulled out her phone and murmured directions to him, and he cursed once, and did a U-turn on a narrow road. Len craned his neck, but couldn’t see much but snow-filled darkness and a quiet street. 

Finally there was an abrupt braking, and Axel swung off the road onto a pot-holed lane. Len caught a glimpse of a tall hedge and fence arching over, and then darkness fell over them again. Hartley leaned against his shoulder as the van began heading upwards, gravity drawing everyone gently towards the back of the van. Len shifted under Hartley’s suddenly uncomfortable weight, and Hartley squirmed away, a soft apology on his lips. Len grunted and wrapped an arm around the younger man, who settled stiffly against him again.

No sooner had they levelled out, but the van stopped. 

“Pile out, boys and girl,” Lisa trilled. “Grab whatever you can carry.”

“What the hell is really going on, Lisa?” Len growled, pushing himself up. He stood still for a moment, willing the feeling back into his legs. His whole body felt jarred and his legs tingled from sitting in the same uncomfortable position for far too long.

“We’re here, Lenny, don’t be a grump. It’s show time.”

He glared at her. “We’re rescuing the Flash?” he asked suspiciously.

“Of _course_.”

She was lying. What the _hell_ was this? Not mollified in the least, Len climbed out of the back of the van and looked around, tense and annoyed. They were outside a dilapidated house set at the top of a steep hill. Upon further observation he saw that it wasn’t just a house - it was really better termed a mansion - but the place had also obviously seen better days. Some shingles had come loose and the paint was peeling. It looked solid, but tired, like it hadn’t been cared for well in a while.

Central City wasn’t as far away as he thought. It shone like a beacon some distance away, but the area immediately around them was mostly dark, with the odd collection of twinkling lights dotting the darkness where a house might be sitting. The hill itself was entirely black under the moonless, cloudy sky, the geography impenetrable.

“ _Lenny_ ,” Lisa called from the doorway to the house, and he turned, walking towards her with an ever-growing certainty that he was being played.

“The Flash wasn’t kidnapped, _sis_ ,” he hissed as he stomped past her. Ahead was a majestic lobby with a wide staircase heading upwards. He angled to the right, where he heard many voices, and stepped into a large sitting room, dominated by a fireplace with a roaring fire. Oh, and of course there was Mick, standing by the fire with a poker in his hand.

And sitting next to him…

“Yes he was, _bro_ ,” Lisa retorted.

Len stood in the doorway and stared. Barry was sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace, wearing his Flash suit and the collar he had worn last Christmas, and was chatting animatedly with Hartley. He broke off the conversation at Len’s arrival and looked up. Len had thought he was smiling before, but the grin was now _incandescent_. 

“Len!”

Len was still frozen, too surprised to move. Barry jumped to his feet and blurred as he crossed the room, and an instant later Len had a double armful of gleeful speedster. They were hugging, and it wasn’t cool _at all_.

“Welcome to the Second Annual Rogues Retreat,” Barry said into his ear. 

Len looked at Lisa. “I hate you.” 

Her smile spread wide, a fully _wicked_ Snart expression. “It’s Christmas, Lenny,” she said. “What did you expect?”

Len’s arms were cinched around Barry’s waist, and he didn’t plan on letting go, but he still managed to spear his sister with the coldest expression he could muster. “In what _way_ did you think this was a good idea?”

She shrugged. “We all decided,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “It was so successful last year, that we definitely wanted to do it again.”

“We all nearly died last year,” Len pointed out. 

“Yes, wasn’t it _fun_?” Lisa retorted, snickering. Then she sobered. “Besides, you got together with your cutie last year, too. Are you really saying you regret it?”

Barry was warm against him, moulded so closely it was as if he was trying to fit like a puzzle piece, his head resting on Len’s shoulder. He was _perfect_ , and even with everything else that had happened, he was all Len’s.

“No,” he admitted softly. Lisa smirked and sauntered away.

“Um, excuse me,” said someone. Barry raised his head and looked around towards the weirdly familiar voice. Len craned his neck to look past him and blinked at the sight of one guest who he was _sure_ hadn’t been invited. Cisco Ramon stood uncomfortably in one corner of the room, looking half put-out, and half terrified. Mark Mardon was leaning against the wall near him, casually menacing. Cisco looked around. “Can someone please tell me what the heck happens now?”

“Sorry, honey,” Lisa said, materializing beside him. “You’re collateral damage. Mick and Mark were only supposed to grab your friend the Flash.” 

“It’s okay, Cisco,” Barry said with a certainty that Len didn’t actually share. “It’s just a party, honestly. Like, a long party. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.”

Lisa leaned in close, and Cisco leaned away slightly. “That’s right. You’re under my protection, Cisco.” She straightened and put her hands on her hips. “You goons all hear that?”

There was a general muttering of assent. Hartley flopped down on the sofa dramatically and grinned. “Aw man, and I’ve been saving up all year. Why do you get first dibs?”

“Because I said so,” Lisa said primly.

Hartley sniffed.

Cisco swallowed visibly, and looked around from face to unfriendly face. “…Great.”


	3. He Had No Chill At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is revealed that Cisco's hates gin. And also? His life.

An unknown period of time after getting kidnapped by the Weather Wizard, Cisco had regained consciousness, greeted by a world of throbbing pain in his head and a lot of general jolting around. He’d realized eventually that he was lying on the bare metal floor of a van, only his head cushioned against the shock by something solid and warm.

A leg. He was lying on the floor of a vehicle, being driven somewhere, and he was lying on someone’s leg.

He opened his eyes, and looked up at Mick Rory.

“A-ah!!” he yelled, and squirmed away - or tried. His wrists and ankles were zip-tied together and Heat Wave clenched a fist in his hair, which effectively prevented Cisco from moving away. Which meant that he was trapped. Trapped with his head in Heat Wave’s lap. 

“The extra’s awake, I hear,” came Weather Wizard’s voice, muffled by the sound of the engine. Cisco craned his neck as best he could - shying away from any possible movement that might move his _face_ closer to Mick Rory’s _groin_ , which he was trying and failing very hard to think about - and spotted Mark Mardon in the front seat, driving.

“What was your first clue?” Heat Wave rumbled. He grabbed Cisco by the shoulder and sat him up - _oh thank god_ \- then loomed very close - _please no_. “You gonna behave yourself, or act like a bitch like last time?”

“You kidnapped him before this, Rory?” Mark asked curiously. Mick ignored him, staring at Cisco, their noses nearly touching.

“W-where’s the Flash?” Cisco asked bravely, his voice barely quavering at all.

“I’m right here, Cisco.” 

Cisco looked. Barry was two feet away, lying on a pile of suitcases that looked marginally more comfortable than the bare floor where Cisco had been. He, like Cisco, was bound. He was wearing a weird set of metal cuffs on his hands and feet, and a collar around his neck. Amazingly, his cowl was still on, and he looked unharmed. He didn’t even look that nervous.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, and offered Cisco a reassuring smile. This was bad. Barry was clearly hallucinating. A reaction to whatever Mick had shot him up with, maybe.

“Are you tripping, man?” Cisco asked him in a measured tone. 

At his question, the smile faltered and Barry flicked his gaze towards the driver, then back to Cisco. “It’s gonna be okay,” he repeated, with slightly less conviction.

Mick gave Cisco a little shake, attracting his attention again. “Gonna ask you again,” he growled. “You gonna behave yourself, or be a bitch and make me hurt you?”

“Mick!” Barry protested.

“I’ll behave,” Cisco said coldly. “For now.”

Mick grunted and released his shoulder, and Cisco scooted away as quickly as humanly possible. When his back hit the suitcases, he felt Barry’s bound hands touch his shoulder and rub. “Calm down, Cisco,” Barry said softly. 

“What’s going on?” Cisco asked. He didn’t dare let Mick out of his sight, but Heatwave just settled back against the wall of the van and produced a bottle of what looked like bourbon. He took a pull from the bottle, then tipped it in Cisco’s direction with a raised eyebrow. Cisco closed his eyes and attempted to convince himself that this was all just a dream.

“I think… this might be Leonard Snart’s Christmas present,” Barry said, slowly.

Cisco opened his eyes and shot a look at Barry, who shrugged helplessly, brows drawn together uncomfortably under his cowl. 

It occurred to Cisco that when it came right down to it, he had never really believed Barry’s account of what had happened last year. 

Oh sure, he’d believed in it _generally_ , like that Barry had been kidnapped by the Trickster and had been held against his will, using speed-suppression cuffs Hartley had invented like the total douche he was. 

He’d believed Barry when he’d regaled them with the tale of the weird metahuman who had been able to steal other metahuman powers, and how the Rogues and Barry had eventually joined forces to defeat her. He had even been able to accept that for whatever reason, Barry and Snart had wound up sleeping together and Barry had become kinda attached to Captain Cold.

But he’d never really _gotten it_. What it had been like. What Barry must have gone through.

“Look, I don’t know what ride you’re on, buddy, but I want _off_ , and I think you should, too,” Cisco whispered. “You want to go on having your conjugals with Captain Cold - that’s fine. Not my kink, but I’m not gonna say you can’t live your own life. But you don’t think this is fucked up?”

Barry’s hand stilled on his shoulder and he let out a breath. “I didn’t say it wasn’t messed up.”

Well, at least they were on the same page about _something_. “Snart’s in _jail_ , buddy.” Cisco finally twisted around and looked his friend in the face, searching his expression. “ _Isn’t he?_ ” 

Barry’s expression was grave. “Yes.”

“Then where are they taking us?”

“I don’t know.”

They held a long look. Barry looked away first. “Cisco… all I’m saying is there’s no point in panicking. We’ll find out what they plan to do when we get to where we’re going.” He looked up. “I get why you’re scared. I _know_ the Rogues are dangerous. That’s my _point_. Last year I was safe because I toed the line and let Len protect me. The Rogues know Len will be pissed if I get hurt, so I think even if we can’t trust anything else - we can trust that.”

Cisco’s stomach turned over. It all sounded so reasonable, but Barry couldn’t really be as sure as he was pretending, could he? “What about me?” he asked. “I’m not _you_. Cold doesn’t give a shit about me.” He wasn’t even sure that Captain Cold gave a shit about _Barry_ , but Barry was obviously convinced, and Cisco had to work within that paradigm for now.

Barry bit his lip. “Just don’t do anything rash, okay? I promise if things go south, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

 _How can you do that if you’re chained up?_ Cisco wondered, but the worry in Barry’s face was finally obvious, and in a way that was reassuring. They’d been in worse scrapes than this, that was for sure, so as long as Barry understood that there was danger here and wasn’t just in La La Honeymoon Land with his criminal boyfriend, maybe Cisco stood a chance of not getting dead.

The van bumped up a road for a long while, heading up a steep incline, and finally stopped. Mick was still working through his bottle of bourbon, but he put it away as Mardon cut the engine, and heaved himself to his feet. “You want me to uncuff you, kid?” he asked Barry. “Otherwise I’ll have to carry you inside.”

Cisco wasn’t sure he’d heard him right, but he produced a key and unlocked the cuffs on Barry, though Cisco noticed that he left that creepy collar in place. “Thanks, Mick,” Barry said, which was even more Twilight Zone. Did he have to thank him for that? “The cuffs aren’t necessary. For either of us.”

Mick eyed Cisco doubtfully, and Cisco squirmed under his gaze. “I won’t try to run away,” he lied. 

“Please, Mick,” Barry added, and finally the big man grunted and produced a switchblade. 

As he cut Cisco’s bonds, Mardon opened up the back doors of the van. “Hey!” he snapped. “What’re you doing?”

“When you’re in charge of carrying the prisoners around, you can keep them tied up all you want,” Mick growled at him. “They ain’t going anywhere. Get the stuff.”

Mark growled and muttered as he jumped up into the vehicle and began grabbing bags and boxes. Cisco rubbed his wrists and got to his feet, heading for the back of the van. He was just vaguely starting to wonder what would happen if he just made a break for it, when Mick grabbed him by the upper arm and steered him out of the van. 

He caught a glimpse of a snow-covered lawn, graded steeply downwards, and a massive house. Then he was marched inside and the front doors slammed with a certain finality.

Barry was walking next to them, craning his neck as he looked around with interest. “What is this place?”

“It’s not the place you went to before?” Cisco asked in surprise. Barry shook his head.

“Just a place. Lisa picked it,” said Mick.

At the mention of Lisa Snart, Cisco’s stomach flipped over. He wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to him that if he was kidnapped by the Rogues for some kind of crazy, twisted Christmas celebration, Lisa had to be coming, too.

“And Len’s coming?” Barry asked, a mixture of nervousness and hope in his tone.

“No point in throwing a Christmas bash without the star,” Mick said. They had entered a dimly-lit parlour or sitting room, with overstuffed sofas and chairs. More than enough room for a pretty big party, and Cisco wondered who else was coming. The Mist? Rainbow Raider?

Cisco wasn’t seated so much as forcibly _planted_ in a chair. Mick placed both of his beefy, scarred hands on the arms of the chair and leaned in. “Listen, pretty. I got some shit to get done, so you’re gonna stay here. You leave this room without permission, and you’ll be chained to that chair the rest of the week. You understand me?”

“He understands, Mick,” Barry said soothingly. “He said he’d behave. Go on. We’ll be fine.”

Mick straightened and glared at Barry. “He’d better. Mardon wanted you both gift-wrapped and gagged. We could still go with that.” Then he stalked off.

The instant Heat Wave disappeared and Cisco heard the front door close, he leaped up from the chair. His heart was pounding and his palms sweating. Being kidnapped by the Snarts the first time had been terrifying. But this was even worse. “Let’s get out of here. Now,” he said urgently.

“We’re not running, Cisco,” Barry said patiently. He walked over to inspect a box and began unpacking board games. Cisco stared at him for a long moment.

“Did you _hear_ what he just—”

“He’s _trying_ to _protect_ you, Cisco!” Barry turned towards him. “Why don’t you get that? Mardon’s the threat here, not Mick. Mardon never liked that Len didn’t let him do anything to me last year.”

“Then we _run_.”

“ _No_.” Barry zipped across the room in the blink of an eye, and took hold of Cisco’s upper arms. “Listen to me, Cisco,” he said urgently. “I _promise_ that everything is going to be okay. But right now, we don’t know what exactly they’re planning. We don’t know if James Jesse’s rigged something to _blow up_ if we set foot outside.” 

Cisco nearly stopped breathing at the thought. 

Barry continued. “Len will be here, soon. Mick said so. He’s not going to let anything happen to either of us - and Lisa, too. You don’t think Lisa’d want to hurt you, do you?”

Cisco shifted, feeling his cheeks grow hot. “No…” he admitted. “Not Lisa.”

“Trust me, okay? I know what I’m doing.”

Barry had a point - acting rashly wasn’t smart. But on the other hand, if they waited for the rest of them to arrive and things got bad, it would only be more difficult to escape. On the third hand… Barry was right. Lisa owed them her life. That had to count for something. It wasn’t really okay, but Cisco swallowed and nodded. Barry had gotten through this last year, and he could get them through it again. 

“Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.”

“Good.” Barry beamed and let go of him. “Now, we might as well help get the place ready for the party.” He headed back to the box and Cisco followed him, reluctantly.

“You are messed in the head, buddy.”

Barry just laughed, and handed him a black box of cards. Cisco blinked. “Cool! Cards Against Humanity.”

“Just wait until you play it with Mick Rory.”

Heat Wave and Weather Wizard spent the next hour carting boxes and bags into the house. Mardon glared at them a lot, but didn’t do anything else. Mick spent an inordinate amount of time building a healthy fire in the fireplace, driving off the chill and brightening the room. Cisco wound up in charge of putting up decorations while Barry speed-unpacked boxes. 

Neither of them was allowed to leave the room, though, not even when they found a box of liquor and Cisco offered - actually without thinking - to take it to the kitchen.

Then the rest of the Rogues arrived, and Barry practically flew into Snart’s arms like this was the best Christmas present ever. Snart, whose prison garb was still poking out at the sleeves and collar, looked happy as a clam and still pretty sinister to Cisco’s eyes as he held Barry close and exchanged smirks with the other Rogues. He hadn’t even stopped to change after breaking out of Iron Heights, it seemed.

And Lisa’s reassurances weren’t…actually all that reassuring. There was hostility beaming at Cisco from several quarters, and he couldn’t really understand how this was not going to wind up with a whole lot of murder happening. He couldn’t even quite comprehend how this many crazy psychopaths could spend an entire week together without killing _each other_ , let alone Barry and Cisco, whom they hated.

He didn’t see Barry coming to his rescue, either. His best friend and Snart had retired quickly to the sofa in front of the fire, and Barry was _literally_ perched in Snart’s lap, his arms around his neck like he was Captain Cold’s high school sweetheart, gazing adoringly into his eyes as he chattered away.

Games were being broken out all over, and drinks were being handed around. Cisco wall-flowered in a corner, not knowing who was the most dangerous - and trying to tell himself that that strange sensation in the pit of his stomach was abject terror, and not that stupid, awkward feeling of being left out that he’d thought he’d left behind in school.

“ _Cisco_.” Oh, Lisa was back. She slipped an arm around his shoulders and he was already so tense that his whole body nearly seized like a dry engine. “Honey. What are you doing over here?”

“Um,” he croaked. God, where was his chill? He had _no chill at all_. He stared at her in terror, as she cocked her head and smiled in that knowing way that always made his stomach flip over and his heart pound.

“You want me to give you a tip?” she asked. 

He sort of managed a nod. Breathed out. Breathed in. “Yeah, okay. Sure?”

She leaned in close, and whispered in his ear. “Relax.” He stopped breathing entirely. This was it. He was going to die, and it wasn’t even going to be someone like Kyle Nimbus who killed him. She was still talking, her lips brushing his earlobe. _Help._ “Come and have a drink. Play some cards. You want to play some cards with me?”

Somehow, he managed to speak, despite his lungs not actually working. “Yeah?”

She pulled back and beamed. He could breathe again. “Wonderful. Now, come on.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him over to an open place in the middle of the room. Hartley, Shawna and Roy were already seated on the floor. Lisa joined the circle and Cisco sat down next to her, his knees giving out more than actually sitting down.

Okay. Okay, he could do this. Hartley was just an asshole and Cisco wasn’t scared of him, anyway. Shawna wasn’t so bad, though she was pretty frightening that time she had come to STAR Labs when Cisco had possibly been dreaming but he wasn’t sure. Roy was slightly terrifying, but he was mostly just a weird douche and he was wearing his glasses. If Cisco didn’t actually look at him, everything would be fine.

“Uh, hi,” he said, struggling with where to put his eyes if he couldn’t look at Roy and didn’t really want to stare like a creep at either of the girls. He settled on Hartley. “So what are we playing?”

“Strip poker,” said Hartley, and grinned, his eyes travelling over Cisco from head to toe. Cisco deeply regretted looking at Hartley.

“W-what?” he squeaked, and reddened.

Lisa leaned over and smacked Hartley on the shoulder. “We’re playing gin. And here is your gin.” She handed him a glass of clear liquid. 

Cisco hated gin with a passion. He drank it anyway.


	4. In the Stone Age With No Candy Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Len have reunited, and it's probably vaguely sickening to everyone other than themselves.

It was unbelievably nice to hold Len again without any glass or metal between them. So nice, that when Len walked into the room, for a few moments Barry couldn’t think of anything else. It was possible that he’d been a little more stressed than he wanted to let on to Cisco. Seeing Len in the flesh, knowing that he was really out of prison and _here_ , had just been such a relief.

He had flashed across the room instantly - or as instantly as the speed-suppressing collar allowed him to move, anyway - and just hugged Len as tightly as he could.

“Sit with me,” Len murmured, and Barry’s knees went weak. 

They moved to the sofa in front of the fire and Len tugged him down. It was almost automatic to climb into Len’s lap and straddle his thighs. He knew without being told that it was important for him to put on the same show he had last time. Some of the Rogues might have accepted him in the end, but for some the only reason they tolerated the Flash here was because they thought of him as Len’s property.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Barry said as he settled in. “Hartley told me you’d been hurt in a prison riot to get me to walk into Mardon and Mick’s ambush.” 

“I’m fine,” Len said, amused. “All of this was a total surprise to me, too. They busted me out tonight and told me you’d been kidnapped.”

Barry grinned, tickled by that. “Aw, and you rushed to the rescue.”

Len looked offended. “Are you implying that there were heroics involved?”

“Who, me?” Barry asked indulgently, and Len’s expression turned even more sour. His eyes still glittered with amusement, though, and Barry knew he wasn’t really upset.

Though they chatted in low voices together for a while, catching up, Barry kept an eye on Cisco. He felt bad that his best friend had been caught up in all of this. It seemed like he was pretty unnerved, though Barry was confident that he’d relax once he realized that they weren’t about to get murdered. 

He also couldn’t forget about the friends and family who were left behind and would worry again for another year. But that, perhaps, he could do something about this year.

“Didn’t expect them to bring Cisco along,” Len murmured, watching the direction of his gaze. Cisco seemed to be having fun, now, laughing along with the others as Roy put down a run of cards and won a hand. 

“I don’t think it was intentional,” Barry said. “He was with me.”

Len made a soft, thoughtful noise, at that. “Well, Lisa’ll keep him in line. He’s not even a metahuman. Don’t need the collar and cuffs.” Len tapped the metal collar. Barry rolled his eyes.

“Why am I even wearing this, exactly?”

“Why?” Len dropped his tone into a seductive register. “You want me to take it off?”

Barry blushed, not even really sure why. “It’s fine,” he stammered. “It doesn’t have a bomb on it, right?”

“It better not,” Len said with a suddenly cold tone, glancing over at James Jesse, who was chatting with Mardon. James tipped him a cheerful wave, then returned to his conversation.

Barry pulled the conversation - and his mind - back out of the gutter for now. “Do you think _this_ year I could actually call my family and let them know I’m okay?”

Len made a non-committal noise. “I suppose, but no hints about where you are.”

Barry rolled his eyes. “Len, I don’t even _know_ where I am.”

“…Point.” Len glanced around. “You can use my phone later. Right now, I’ve got plans.” 

“What pl—ah!” Barry yelped in surprise as Len grabbed his ass and squeezed, an evil glint in his eyes. Barry turned as red as his cowl, his breathing suddenly speeding up. It _had_ been a while. He scrambled to his feet, but as Len also rose, adjusting the fit of his slacks, he put a hand on Len’s arm to attract his attention. “What about Cisco? Where’s he sleeping?”

Len glanced over at Cisco, then scanned the room. “I’m going to bed. Someone’s gotta take Ramon for the night. Who’s it gonna be?”

Cisco’s back stiffened ramrod straight and he looked around wildly. “Wh-wha—?”

Hartley raised a hand lazily. It contained a glass of booze. “I’ll take him,” he said, and smirked.

“Oh hell no—” sputtered Cisco, turning red.

“I’ll take him,” Lisa said sweetly, shooting a glance at her brother over her shoulder. “He’s under my protection, after all.”

“ _No,_ ” Len said firmly, and Lisa pouted. 

“I’ll do it,” rumbled Mick from across the room. 

Len pointed at him, gave a nod, and then grabbed Barry by the arm. “Night, all.”

There was a general muttering of ‘good nights’ and suggestive comments that rose up around Cisco’s incoherent choking noises of protest. 

Barry reluctantly allowed Len to drag him away, trying to beam reassuring feelings with his eyes towards Cisco, who looked at him beseechingly. He could relate - he really could! If he thought Mick would hurt Cisco, he’d say something, but Mick had protected Barry last year, and he’d do the same for Cisco now. Anyone else… Barry wasn’t sure he could trust. 

And Len had been pretty clear that he didn’t want Cisco and Lisa bunking in together, which Barry could sort of understand. It was pretty obvious what Lisa wanted from Cisco, and Cisco needed to be sure he wanted it _back_ , before she got a whole night to try to coax it out of him.

Once they had left the sitting room, Barry followed Len up the stairs to the second floor. The house was large and rambling, even bigger, it seemed than the chalet they’d had last year. It had four wings, rather than just two, and a third floor. Len headed straight up the second flight of stairs. “Presidential suite’s up here, I think,” he said.

“You’ve been here, before?” Barry asked, mystified. From what he understood, Len was as surprised by all of this as Barry was.

“Never. Mick mentioned he’d sent our things up to the third floor.”

“’Our things’? What things?”

“No clue.”

At the top of the stairs was a set of double doors. Len tried the knob, and shrugged when it opened. Barry stepped inside, then paused and stared. 

The suite had a vaulted ceiling, four large skylights letting in the starlight from above. The bed was gigantic, a four-poster monstrosity that had to be over a hundred years old, with fantastical animals carved into the warm, buttery wood of the bedframe. The sitting room was plush, with a massive fireplace and a television - giving a nod to the current day. Through a doorway, Barry could see a bathroom as opulent as the one from the year before.

“This place is awesome,” he said, and reached up to pull off his cowl. “I didn’t really appreciate it last year.”

“That’s because you were scared shitless for the first couple days,” Len said, which was true. 

Barry skinned out of every stitch of clothing he was wearing, working the cowl out from under the collar. Len found a key on the coffee table, and locked their doors, then also began to undress. He discarded the prison fatigues right into the fireplace, then actually began to build a fire, using them as kindling.

Barry headed for the bathroom, but paused right outside when he saw the small stack of suitcases. He recognized one and bent over it, a strange feeling coming over it. As he suspected, when he opened it up, he saw a week’s worth of his own clothing folded up inside. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

He straightened, meeting Len’s concerned gaze. “They _packed_ for us.”

Len grinned, then sobered as the implications clicked. “Are you serious?”

Barry turned back to stare at his own baggage. “Someone snuck into Joe’s house and stole half my clothes. And my toothbrush.”

Len just started to laugh.

Still discomfited, Barry went into the bathroom and started running a bath. When had this happened? Who amongst the Rogues had taken his things? He definitely thought Shawna could have accomplished it, but the thought of her going through his underwear drawer made his ears burn. 

Thinking about what carnage Joe might have come home to convinced him that as much as he might like to just enjoy this time with Len and pretend everything was okay, he couldn’t. He stepped out of the bathroom again. Len was putting a few logs on the fire, his nude body limned in a warm, red glow. Barry’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed a couple of times. “For real, do you have a phone I can use?”

“Sure.” Len rose and rummaged in the clothes he’d been wearing, produced a cheap phone and tossed it to him. Barry inspected it, amused. It had to be a burner phone. It didn’t even have apps. He wondered if Len had a ‘real’ phone he wouldn’t let Barry touch, or if he just lived like this in the stone age with no Candy Crush all the time.

The thought of calling Joe was a little nervewracking, so he dialed Iris. There was silence for a moment, and then a short burst of static, then the call dropped. He frowned and inspected the phone. Full bars. He tried again, with the same result, then called the STAR Labs main line, hoping to reach Caitlin, Harry, or Jay. No dice. 

“Something wrong?” Len asked curiously.

“Not getting a good signal,” Barry said. He looked up at the skylight again, but the sky was still clear and studded with stars. It couldn’t be weather related.

Apparently for whatever reason it wasn’t meant to be right now, but he called Joe’s number anyway, just so he could say he did. This time it rang, and rang again. Just as it was about to click over to voicemail, the line finally picked up. “Who is this?” asked Joe, his voice low and filled with suspicion.

“Joe! It’s Barry.”

“Barry?” Joe hissed. “Where are you? Are you alone?”

“I’m okay, Joe. I’m with Len,” Barry said, and winced. He knew that knowing he was with Snart wouldn’t really be a reassurance to Joe. And indeed, the older man cursed softly. Barry struggled to reassure him. “Look, I know this isn’t exactly how we meant to spend our holidays, but I’m really, honestly _fine_. Cisco’s here, too. The Rogues decided to kidnap me as a present to Len, uh… I guess as a celebration for them breaking him out of prison.”

Len snorted with amusement. Joe growled with barely suppressed rage. Barry hunched over the phone, feeling like he was being torn in two. “Please don’t be mad at me, Joe. Could we… could we maybe have turkey on New Year’s Eve, when I get back? I’d really like that.”

He heard Joe take a breath, and let it out. “I ain’t mad at _you_ , Barr.”

“I’m sorry,” Barry said, anyway. The worst part of this was that he didn’t _want_ to go home, yet. Last year he’d been so miserable at missing Christmas with his family. This time, he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do than spend Christmas with Len, but he knew that his family didn’t feel at all the same way about the situation.

Suddenly, the phone was plucked from his fingers, and Len brought it to his ear. “Detective West,” he said in a cold, professional tone. “This is Leonard Snart.”

Barry didn’t have enhanced hearing, and the phone was apparently pretty good at containing sound. He heard only some indistinct muffled shouting, and Len winced away from the phone slightly. “Well,” he said. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Here’s the situation: Barry’s staying with me for Christmas. It’s not a debate, it’s a done deal. I couldn’t bring him back to you now, even if I wanted to - which I _don’t_ \- without offending a whole lot of highly antisocial people with really powerful abilities, and I’m not going to do that.”

He paused. Listened. “You’re certainly welcome to try, Mr. West. But in the meantime, I can assure you, Barry is safe as houses in my hands, and I won’t allow anything to happen to Cisco, either. Merry Christmas.” He hung up the phone and tossed it - perhaps a little harder than necessary, onto the sofa.

Then he turned to Barry, his eyes softening, though there was still anger in the set of his mouth. “Now then, where were we?”

Barry felt himself hunching up, his shoulders rising and head lowering, until the collar pressed uncomfortably against his skin. He had hoped to reassure Joe, but it really hadn’t helped at all, and he felt so _selfish_ , just wanting to forget all about it and have a nice time. “I… I was just running the bath. I’ll check on it.”

He fled to the bathroom, flashing there instantly, and found the bathtub mostly full of hot, steaming water. He bent over it, eyes burning with unshed tears, and tested the water. He couldn’t even be angry. Joe had good reason not to trust Len, not to believe Barry when he said that Len wasn’t the person they had once thought he was. But even so, he wished Joe would give him a chance - or at least accept Barry’s choice.

He also wholeheartedly wished Len didn’t enjoy antagonizing Joe so much.

He heard a soft step behind him, and he turned his head, seeing Len standing uncertainly in the doorway. Barry smiled at him sadly. “I’m okay,” he said in answer to the unspoken question in Len’s eyes. “I just needed a minute.”

“You sure?” Len asked. 

“Yeah.” Barry bent over the tub again, adjusting the knobs. “I wish Joe would accept you, but I know why he doesn’t.”

“I don’t exactly make it easy,” Len said in a sardonic tone. 

Barry laughed. “No, you don’t. But I still love you.”

He heard Len take in a sharp, indrawn breath, then he wrapped around Barry from behind, hands pressing against his chest. Barry drew in a breath and and pressed backwards, momentarily closing his eyes. He reached up and curled his fingers around Len’s hand. “I missed you so much,” he murmured.

There was a brief pause before Len replied, so short Barry nearly didn’t notice. “Maybe you shouldn’t’ve tossed me in prison.” 

Barry winced and tried to turn. “I’m _sorry_ , Len, but I didn’t have a—”

Len’s finger pressed against his lips, and his other arm tightened, preventing Barry from turning around. “Shh,” he murmured. “I know.”

Barry relented, frowning down at the filling jacuzzi tub. Steam rose from the surface of the water. “I didn’t want to do it.”

“I know.”

“And I really _did_ miss you.”

Pause. Sigh. Len squeezed him with both arms, then released him. “I know, Barry. Get in the tub.”


	5. He's the Dick I Shouldn't Be Alone With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There isn't enough gin in the world for this.

They’d been playing gin for quite a while now, and Cisco never wanted to stop. It wasn’t because the Rogues were probably the coolest group of people he’d ever played cards and gotten drunk with (though they were). And it wasn’t because Cisco was feeling extremely floaty from that disgusting gin Lisa gave him and wasn’t sure whether if he got up, he wouldn’t just fall right back down again (though he thought that was a distinct possibility).

It was because at some point, Lisa Snart had cuddled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She was sleepy enough that he could see her cards if he just looked down. Her hair tickled his neck. It was basically the best thing ever.

“All right, that’s it for me.” Roy threw his cards down and then drained the last of his beer. “It’s late. I’m turning in.”

They had all been yawning for the past hour. Not only was Lisa dozing against Cisco’s shoulder - which, one must emphasize, was dope - but Shawna might have actually been asleep, her head in Roy’s lap. Hartley had surrendered half an hour ago and was sleeping on the sofa, and now it seemed Roy was packing it in, too.

As Raider gently chivvied Peek-a-boo awake and got to his feet, Cisco looked around, desperate. The room was nearly empty. He wasn’t sure how long ago Barry and Snart had gone upstairs, but they had only been the first to retire. Weather Wizard and the Mist were gone, too. Not that they would’ve been any help in this situation.

Heat Wave was still sitting by the fire. When Cisco looked at him, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, then bared his teeth in a parody of a grin. Cisco’s heart gave a great big _thump_.

Cisco turned his head and looked at Lisa. Her head was still resting gently against him. That was really the only bright spot in this entire kidnapping situation, and it seemed like Captain Cold was inclined to keep them apart. Though the idea of spending the night with her instead was… well, he wasn’t sure he was ready for that, to be honest.

But the thing he was even less ready for? Was the fact that Mick Rory was now getting up from his seat and walking towards them. 

“Bedtime, kid,” he rumbled.

Cisco stiffened and put his arm around Lisa, who raised her head. She blinked sleepily, pushing back her hair and smiling at him, then up at Mick. “Mmm… guess you’re right.”

“Uh, I-I can stay up,” Cisco stammered.

She smiled, and then her lips met his. They were sweet, and moist, and flavoured with cinnamon, and Cisco leaned into it immediately, his hand moving to cup her cheek. The kiss on the street had been exciting, but this was different. This was like being wrapped in a blanket and sinking into a waterbed at the same time. Wrapped up warm and safe and--

And then she pulled away. “Good night, Cisco,” she said. “Be good.”

“Uh…I will.”

He was still watching her walk away when Heat Wave grabbed him by the arm and hauled him to his feet. “Come on, loverboy,” he growled. “Lots of time tomorrow to get your balls cut off for moving in on Snart’s baby sister.”

Cisco hunched his shoulders and moved his feet as quickly as he could as Mick began to frog-march him up the stairs. “She’s moving in on _me_!” he protested.

“You really think that’s gonna matter?”

No, he didn’t. 

At the top of the stairs, Lisa turned left. Mick turned right and Cisco was inexorably turned with him, then went through a door into a bedroom with a handsome four-poster bed and an adjoining bathroom. Mick kicked the door shut and gave Cisco a mild shove. Cisco stumbled a few steps before he caught his balance, then whirled and backed away, putting as much distance between himself and Heat Wave as possible.

Mick locked the door with a large brass key and placed the key on top of a wardrobe in the corner. Cisco eyed the wardrobe. He’d probably need a step-stool to get up there and get the key.

Cisco watched as Mick puttered around, opening a suitcase and rummaging inside, going into the bathroom and running water, flushing the toilet, then coming out again. By the time the pyromaniac had finished all of those mundane tasks, Cisco was sort of starting to feel weird about being so terrified. Except that he recalled getting punched in the face by those huge fists, the wild look in Mick’s eyes as he attacked, and the way Lisa and Snart had had to physically pull him off of him. 

Heat Wave was just crazy, and it was only a matter of time before Cisco did something to set him off again, but who knew if there’d be anyone around to save him when it happened. 

For now, though, Mick appeared to be completely ignoring him. He removed his gloves, revealing the scarring on his hands, and then pulled off his shirt. His skin was a ravaged wreck of burn scars so gross that Cisco’s eyes were riveted with fascination. But when he started undoing his belt, Cisco gave an involuntary yelp and Mick looked up at him with a frown like he’d just remembered Cisco was there.

“You just gonna stand there all night?”

Cisco shifted from foot to foot. There was a distinct possibility that the true answer to Mick’s question was ‘yes’, except he didn’t really think that was what Mick had in mind. Thing was, if he didn’t stand right where he was, he didn’t know what he was going to do. Sleep on the floor, maybe.

“Can I ask you something?” Cisco blurted.

Mick shrugged and went on undressing. Cisco got extremely interested in the pattern on the wallpaper. “Uhhhh, have you— do you. Have you slept with a guy before?”

There was a pause in the rustling of clothing. “You mean fucking?” Well, at least he didn’t sound pissed off at the question. No more pissed off than he always sounded, anyway. He couldn’t be too homophobic if he was Captain Cold’s best friend, right?

Cisco made a rather indistinct affirmative noise. 

“If you mean fucking, then say fucking. This ain’t middle school.”

Cisco looked at him. _Diosmíahe’scompletelynaked._ Cisco looked at the floor, and swallowed hard. “Have you f-fucked a man?” 

Pause. “You ever been in prison, pretty?”

Cisco shook his head. Mick was moving around. A lamp switched off, and the room got darker. Cisco stared very hard at the floor. One by one, the lamps went out as Mick talked.

“I’ve been in prison, and I can tell you that’s a fucking dumbass question. Snart and I fucked the first time in juvie.”

Coldwave was a reality. Were Heat Wave and Captain Cold still doing it? Did Barry know? “Oh...” 

The bed creaked and groaned as Mick climbed into it. Silence fell. Cisco waited for the other shoe to drop, but after a long while, he heard snoring start to issue from the direction of the bed.

Cisco began to fidget. His feet were sore from standing in one place for so long. He considered his options, and none of them were great. Yet despite his nervousness - which had prompted the question - it didn’t seem like Heat Wave was planning on taking advantage of him. Was he just being stupid to fear that Mick Rory planned on raping him? He was starting to feel stupid.

It was a pretty big bed, and he didn’t really want to sleep on the floor, with no blanket.

Moving slowly and as silently as he could, Cisco shucked his shoes and climbed onto the bed. Mick’s snores stuttered for a moment as the mattress dipped, and he froze, but then they resumed, if anything, even louder. Cisco breathed out and stretched out on the bed, grabbing the corner of the duvet and wrapping himself up in it like a blanket burrito, rather than getting under all the covers. 

“’Bout damn time,” remarked Mick, sounding extremely awake. Cisco nearly screamed in surprise, and instead managed to strangle the exclamation into a weird sort of squeaking choking noise. Mick snorted, which might have been the equivalent of a laugh.

“Are you fucking with me?” Cisco choked.

“What the hell do you think?”

That startled Cisco into silence, and he went quiet. “The last time,” he said tentatively. “You were a total asshole to me.”

“Yeah,” Mick said, not sounding in the least bit regretful about it. “But it’s Christmas. Shut up and stop freaking out. It’s annoying. All you gotta do is behave, obey the Snarts, and don’t piss anyone off, and you ain’t gonna run into trouble.” He paused. “And don’t catch yourself alone with Mardon. He’s a dick.”

“Oh _he’s_ the dick I shouldn’t be alone with,” Cisco said sarcastically. “Thanks for clearing that up. Anything else?”

Mick seemed to think about that. “Don’t set anything on fire, except in a fireplace.”

“I think that rule’s only for _you_ ,” Cisco retorted.

“Oh right.”

They fell silent for a while. Mick rolled over onto his back and his shoulder bumped against Cisco’s. There were about half a dozen layers of blanket between him and Mick’s penis, so… it was okay. He was fine. Everything was fine. 

“Can’t you all just let me go home?” Cisco complained softly. “If the Flash wants to stay here with all you weirdos so he can do the nasty with Captain Cold, that’s fine, but I never wanted to be here. I won’t tell anyone where you are.”

“Bullshit,” Mick grunted.

“I _won’t_.”

A rough hand caught him by the back of the head. For a second, Cisco braced himself for a beating, his heart racing, but the fingers just combed through his hair and then poked him in the back of the skull. “Stop it. This is what I’m talkin’ about,” Mick said. “The freaks you locked up ain’t gonna just let you go and trust you ain’t gonna betray them, so fuckin’ deal with it. You’ll suffer a few days and then go home.” His tone warmed. “Besides, you might get lucky with Lisa.”

Cisco curled into a ball. “Or Captain Cold might use his cold gun on me.”

“Might be worth it, though,” Mick said philosophically.

Cisco thought about that. “…It might be,” he admitted. 

“Tonight, though, you’re all mine,” Mick murmured, and suddenly a heavy arm was flung over Cisco. He yelped as Mick dragged him close, spooning Cisco back to massive, scarred chest. Hot breath, flavoured with scotch, tickled the back of Cisco’s neck as the younger man squirmed, but the grip was like iron. Mick just held on until Cisco stopped struggling and lay there, panting. 

“You done?” Mick asked, infuriatingly calm.

Cisco’s heart beat wildly in his chest. “Are you gonna…”

“What…you worried I’m gonna fuck you?” Mick asked, like that hadn’t been obvious. “I’d break you in half, pretty.”

Cisco turned red, oddly offended by that, but not stupid enough to contradict Mick and encourage him. “Then what are you going to do?”

Mick grunted and ran a hand down Cisco’s chest, then relaxed against him. “I’m _planning_ on gettin’ some fuckin’ sleep. If you’ll shut up for five minutes.”

Cisco opened his mouth to retort, then closed it again, furious. He wasn’t the one who’d created this situation, and Mick was apparently just screwing with him because he thought it was funny. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, determined to pretend that there wasn’t an extremely naked, violent criminal cuddling up to him like he was his favourite body pillow.

Eventually, Mick began to snore again. Cisco was trapped, a little too warm in his duvet-and-psychopath burrito, and wishing he had a pair of pyjamas. And a toothbrush. And that he’d taken some time to pee before climbing into bed.

But at some point, a miracle occurred, and he fell asleep anyway.

And he Vibed…

_”Can you hear me?”_

_Cold fingers touched his face. He opened his eyes, gasping at the touch that **burned**. A woman floated above him, the only thing solid in a world of smoke and fog. Her hair and clothing moved in a wind he couldn’t feel. Mick’s arms were insubstantial, made of mist and no barrier as the girl pulled Cisco up. _

_His own body was no barrier. He floated away. Her touch no longer burned. The wind caught him, and he fought against it._

_His body lay on the bed, gasping and shuddering, and he wondered why._

_They clasped hands, he and the girl. She floated above him, and he floated above the bed. He couldn’t see colours. The world was made of greys and blues._

_“Who are you?” he asked._

_“Please…can you help me?” she begged._

_He pushed her arms away, and looked down. “This isn’t right. I can’t be here.”_

_“Help me.” Tears glimmered on her cheeks like chips of ice._

_“I’ll try,” he promised. His body’s lips were turning blue. He dove downwards._

He woke. His chest heaved with panicky gulps of air and he shuddered with freezing cold. Mick had moved away, and goddamnit he actually missed his warmth. 

What was that? Had that been real?

He needed to take a leak. He unwrapped himself from the blankets and stood, went into the bathroom and did his business in the dark. Slowly, the trembling stopped. There were a couple of spots on his cheek that tingled and he touched one with his own fingertip, then winced at the pain, like a little spot burn on his skin.

“What the fuck?” he whispered. He turned on a light and peered at himself in the mirror. On his cheek were five bright spots of red, like he’d burned himself on candles. Four fingers and a thumb.

He returned to the main room. Mick was still sawing logs and didn’t seem like he’d been disturbed by either Cisco’s movements or the light being switched on. He considered waking him, and paced for a while, thinking, delaying the moment when he’d have to talk to Heat Wave about the fact that he’d had a weird dream and possibly reveal that he was a metahuman. 

Then he spotted the key on the floor. He frowned and bent, picking it up. He’d definitely seen Mick put the key on top of the wardrobe, but here it was, lying innocently in the middle of the floor.

Had he Vibed? Or was it something else? If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was a ghost. What he’d experienced couldn’t be accounted for by the powers of any of the Rogues. And if it wasn’t one of the Rogues, then he’d Vibed that someone needed help, and apparently nearly died while doing it.

He needed to talk to Barry.

Quietly, he slipped his shoes back on and tip-toed to the door. He peered over his shoulder at Mick for a long moment, but the snores just went on sonorously. He slid the key into the lock, turned it slowly, so slowly until the lock clicked, and then he eased the door open as silently as he could. Then he slipped out into the hallway and closed the door, leaving the key in the lock.

He paused where he was and considered. He wasn’t sure which room was Barry’s, but he could make a guess. It would probably be the best one, since Snart was the leader, and he had noticed the double doors at the top of the stairs. He moved stealthily down the hallway, wincing at every squeak of a floorboard, until he reached the bottom of the stairs.

A soft noise made him freeze and he looked around wildly, his heart nearly stopping as he spotted two figures below him in the lobby. Was it Mardon? Bivolo?

“Cisco?” one of the figures hissed, and took a couple of steps up the stairs towards him. A shaft of light fell across the figure’s face and Cisco stared.

“Joe?”

Joe West had his gun in his hand and moved softly up the stairs towards him, bringing a finger to his lips. Cisco hurried down the steps, meeting him in the middle. The other figure caught up, and Cisco recognized the slender, lanky form of - of all people - Harrison Wells. “Are you okay?” Joe whispered. “Where’s Barry?”

“What are you doing here?” Cisco whispered frantically. “Do you even know how many evil metahumans are in this house? How did you find us?”

“Your kidnapping was caught on the video surveillance outside, and Joe had seen you two leave,” Harry said, pushing his glasses up. He also had a gun in his hand. “When you didn’t come back, we checked the tape, and we realized what must have occurred. Then we tracked Captain Cold’s gun and followed that when it stopped moving. We’ve been outside, waiting for an opportunity.”

“Cisco, _where is Barry_?” asked Joe again.

Cisco swallowed hard. “He’ll be with Snart. I think they’re up there.” He gestured to the double doors above them. 

Joe and Harry exchanged a look. “Okay, we’ll get him. Cisco, you go now. The car is at the bottom of the hill. Just run and wait for us.”

“Are you nuts?” Cisco asked, but he was backing down the stairs slowly. “Barry won’t even want to come with you, Joe.”

Joe’s expression was grave. “I know… but I have to try.”

As Cisco’s heel touched the floor in the lobby, he heard a loud bang and whirled. The front door had apparently been left slightly open when Joe and Harry entered, but had just closed in the wind. The noise echoed through the house, and Joe and Harry froze with alarm.

“Go,” Joe hissed. “Let’s get out of here, now.” He and Harry raced down the steps towards Cisco, and Cisco backed towards the door, starting to turn--

Something cold and metallic wrapped itself around Cisco’s throat, another one grabbing him by the arm. “Going somewhere, Ramon?” Hartley purred into his ear. 

Damnit. He forgot that Hartley had been sleeping on the sofa. And apparently he had his sonic gloves on.

“N-no, I—”

“Cisco!” Joe exclaimed softly, noticing his predicament. Both Joe and Harry raised their guns and pointed them at Hartley, but Hartley dragged Cisco back against his chest, using him as a shield.

“Don’t even bother,” Hartley growled. “I could blow up his head with my gloves, or you can shoot him trying to get to me. You’re outmaneuvered, Detective West. You and--” 

Cisco knew it the instant Hartley recognized Harry. Hartley stiffened like a board and his fingers tightened to bruising intensity. “ _Harrison_?” 

“H-Hartley,” Cisco wheezed, struggling to breathe. “It’s not— He’s not…”

Doors were opening all along the halls on the second floor, lights coming on and people emerging from rooms in various stages of undress. Mick came bursting out completely naked, looking furious and carrying his heat gun. 

Joe and Harry put their backs to one another, Harry continuing to cover Cisco and Hartley, while Joe attempted somehow to cover the metahumans upstairs with his puny weapon.

“Detective West,” said Mark Mardon, wearing a pair of flannel pyjamas and looking gleeful. “Welcome to the _party_.”

“No one shoot,” said Lisa, pushing through the gathered crowd. She was wrapped in a rich silk robe and holding her gold gun. She planted herself at the top of the stairs, gun pointed at Joe. “Well, well. This is a problem. I suggest you put down your weapons, both of you. Before somebody decides to get cute.”

“I want to talk to the Flash,” Joe demanded. “You prove to me that he’s safe, and we’ll leave peacefully.”

Lisa tutted. “What makes you think we’ll _let_ you leave?” She glanced sidelong at Peek-a-boo. “Shawna?”

Shawna looked half-asleep and her own robe was hastily tied. But she poofed in a cloud of black and reappeared in the lobby, and in an instant, Joe and Harry were both on the ground, groaning, their weapons halfway across the room.

“Don’t hurt them!” Cisco yelled, straining against Hartley’s hold. “Please!”

Lisa speared him with a glare. “You be quiet, Cisco. This is your fault.” She gestured to Mick. “Mick, dear. Put some clothes on. There’s an extra room at the end of the west hall for our guests.”

Mick grunted and vanished back into his room.

“What about me?” Mardon demanded, pointing at Joe. 

Lisa gave him a withering look. “What _about_ you? Lenny’ll decide what to do with them in the morning.” Her cold gaze raked Cisco again. “All three of them.” 

Mick emerged, wearing a pair of boxers, and stumped down the stairs. Cisco felt his body trembling and struggled to calm down, then realized that it was _Hartley_. He shifted in Hartley’s grasp, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, but the other man’s grip only tightened. Hartley’s hands shook like leaves, but they held Cisco firmly nonetheless.

“Lisa,” Cisco called out, voice strained. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Save it,” she snapped. “Hart, be a dear and put him back where he belongs. Cuff him to the bed, this time.”

There was a long pause before Hartley replied. “Oh…yeah.” He gave Cisco a harsh shove, and Cisco started moving, head down and shoulders hunched. They gave the fallen police officer and Earth-2 scientist a wide berth. Mick hoisted Joe West up onto his shoulder and followed them. The other metas were breaking up, muttering and grumbling about the incident. Mark remained where he was for a few moments, before Lisa’s glare sent him back to his own room. 

Cisco didn’t bother to say anything else. The marks on his cheek still burned, but he knew this wasn’t the time. He felt so _stupid_ for even getting up and sneaking out in the first place, but he hadn’t anticipated what ended up happening. Now no one would trust him.

Hartley didn’t say anything to him as he marched him back into Mick’s bedroom. He produced a pair of handcuffs and put them around Cisco’s right wrist. Cisco didn’t resist.

“Hartley?” Cisco spoke up tentatively. 

Hartley looked up briefly. His expression was furious, eyes cold and stormy. He curled his lip at Cisco and dragged his arm up to lock the other end of the cuff to the bedpost. Then he turned away.

“Hartley,” Cisco tried again. “Are you okay?”

Hartley stopped, frozen at the question. “What is he?” he hissed without turning around. “Who is he?”

Cisco swallowed. “He’s the real Harrison Wells,” he murmured. “But from another Earth.”

Hartley stood there for a moment, back to Cisco, shoulders tight. Then he strode from the room and slammed the door hard enough to shake it in its hinges.


	6. Kid Must Climb Like a Goddamn Monkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little taste of smut... and the fallout from Cisco's nighttime adventures are felt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made some changes to the tags........

“Get in the tub,” Len purred, and watched with appreciation as Barry both blushed and obeyed immediately. The young man slid into the water with a heavy sigh of contentment, and Len followed without hesitation, climbing in and settling in opposite him. The tub was oval-shaped, more like a hot tub than a bath, and big enough for whatever they might want to get up to in here.

They had all night - hell, they had all _week_ \- and though there were perhaps some issues to work out between them, Len now knew without a doubt that the worries that had plagued him in prison weren’t justified. Barry still wanted him, despite everything. 

Even having been visibly confronted _again_ by Len’s criminal past - and present. Even having witnessed Len murdering his own father. Even having sent him to prison for that murder…somehow Barry still loved him.

It seemed impossible that Len could be that lucky.

But here Barry was, scooting closer to him in the water and straddling his thighs with that sweet, shy smile that lit up a room, and it was like there were no barriers at all between them.

They kissed, unhurriedly. Len explored Barry’s mouth like it was the first time, reminding himself of all the places he could touch and make Barry shiver and sometimes even vibrate in that incredible way only he could. Len’s hands ran greedily down Barry’s back, and then he grabbed a cake of soap, and lathered up his palms.

Barry broke off the kiss to see what he was doing, and grinned. When Len dropped the soap back into its dish, Barry snagged it.

They washed each other, running hands over every inch of one another’s bodies. Len felt grungy and vaguely soiled from his time in prison. He never truly felt clean there, with communal showers and enforced cleaning times, and the need to bare his scars and body in front of dozens of hostile eyes. But Barry’s hands ran over his body and wiped all that away. 

And he just enjoyed the excuse to touch Barry everywhere, to explore every inch of that perfect, godlike perfection that was his. _All_ his.

But the pretense of washing was quickly forgotten. Len pressed Barry back, hips pushing Barry’s thighs apart and his mouth replacing his hands. He kissed and licked at moist skin, raising welts with his lips and then finding a nipple. Barry gasped and let his head fall back, mouth open as Len worried at the nipple with his lips.

“You’re mine,” Len informed him, curling his fingers around Barry’s erection and beginning to stroke. Barry gasped and squirmed, and Len felt slender hands delve between his legs to return the favour. 

“I love you,” Barry murmured warmly, and Len _almost_ kept his cool that time. A whole year, and he still couldn’t get used to hearing those words. Still hadn’t had the courage to say them in return. 

He pressed his lips to Barry’s ear and whispered filthy promises into it as they jerked each other off. Barry gasped and whined and suddenly went rigid as he orgasmed, then sank into the water again, panting. Len’s hand scarcely slowed before building the pace back up again, determined to wear out his young superhuman lover before he himself was exhausted. 

A goal he knew he’d never actually reach, but it was the trying that mattered.

When they had each pleasured each other as long as they could handle, and the bathwater had cooled enough that it was no longer pleasant, Len pulled the plug and got to his feet. His body tingled all over in the wake of their lovemaking. Barry just groaned, lying in the tepid water and cracking one eye open to beam up at Len sweetly.

Len dried off quickly, then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Barry, taking all the time he wanted to buff the water from his skin. Then he led him to their bed, and they both fell into it. Barry tucked himself in against Len, a perfectly-fitting puzzle piece, and they both fell asleep within moments.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Len abruptly snapped awake. He raised his head and peered through the darkness, his sleep-befuddlement shredding away quickly like cobwebs in a breeze, but he couldn’t place what it was that had awakened him. He heard voices, but distantly, and waited a few minutes, trying to decide if whatever it was could be worth the trouble it would be to get dressed and investigate.

Barry slept on in his arms, blissful and sweet. The fact was, Len didn’t want to get up.

Finally the voices stopped. No one had come to the door, and he didn’t hear screams or the sounds of anyone meeting a violent end, so whatever it was, it probably didn’t require his intervention. Satisfied, Len lowered his head and let himself drift off again.

The sun was just warming their room through the overhead skylights when a knock came on the door.

“Who is it?” he called, expecting breakfast. He rose and went to find his robe, while Barry pushed himself up and blinked adorably, his hair all mussed and sticking up from sleeping on it wet the night before.

“It’s Lisa. We need to talk, Lenny.”

Len hmmed and gestured to Barry, who whirled around to put his cowl and some clothes on, then came to a stop sitting on the edge of the bed. Len put on a bathrobe, then unlocked the door and opened it.

Lisa stood outside. She looked like she’d just gotten out of bed - which for her still involved having brushed her hair and put on a little makeup. She was wearing her silk robe over a pair of short shorts and a t-shirt, though, and a pair of slippers. Not exactly general ‘in front of the Rogues’ attire, which meant she wasn’t yet officially up and cooking breakfast.

Len stepped back to invite her in. She smiled, and then entered, and the smile warmed when she saw Barry. “Morning, you two.”

“Something wrong?” Len asked, arching a brow.

She sighed. “I’ll say.”

He tensed, and she flapped a hand at him. “Sit down, Lenny. It’s not that bad.”

He eyed her suspiciously, then sat on the sofa. Lisa perched on a chair and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What is it?” Len asked.

Barry appeared next to him, settling on the sofa with his legs curled under him, his own expression serious as well. 

Lisa ran a hand through her hair. “Cisco tried to escape last night, assisted by Joe West and Harrison Wells.”

Len gritted his teeth and shot a look at Barry, who had drawn in a sharp, dismayed breath. Surely Barry couldn’t have known anything about it. Len had been there when he talked to Joe on the phone, and every minute since. Besides, if Barry had been assisting the escape, it probably would have succeeded.

Then he blinked. “Did you say Harrison Wells?”

“It’s not Harrison Wells,” Barry said hastily. “Uh, I mean, he is. It’s complicated. It doesn’t matter right now.”

Lisa cocked her head, but shrugged. “They’re locked in one of the unused rooms for now. I have Axel standing guard outside.”

“We should separate them,” Len said immediately, and Lisa nodded. 

“Is everyone okay?” Barry asked at almost the same moment, revealing the fundamental difference between their priorities.

Lisa sighed. “No one got hurt. Cisco was out wandering, and it seems the other two came in from outside. The door slammed, and that’s what woke me up. Hart got the drop on Cisco, and they were in a standoff when I got there.” Her lips twisted. “Shawna took them down, and Mick locked them away. Cisco’s in with Mick again, a little more secure.”

Len could feel Barry curling in on himself with every word Lisa said. He had to be feeling terrible, blaming himself, which was ridiculous. It was the Rogues who’d cooked up the kidnapping. Mick and Mardon fucked it up and wound up bringing Cisco along. And it was Joe and “Harrison” who had decided it was a good idea to try to rescue them instead of leaving well enough alone.

All in all, there was a lot of blame to spread around, and none of it should be landing on Barry.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Len asked, remembering with a surge of guilt of his own that something _had_ woken him in the middle of the night, but he’d chosen not to check it out.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “I didn’t need you, Lenny. I am a big girl, after all.”

He swallowed any inappropriate or inflammatory response to that and nodded. “Right.” He got up. “I’m going to meet with our prisoners. Let’s just proceed as normal for now. Which means breakfast and making sure everyone’s in a good mood. Mardon’s going to be a pain in the ass about West, so we have to make sure they’re kept apart.”

Barry jumped to his feet. “Maybe I should talk to them.”

Len glanced at him, aware that he probably looked a lot more calculating than loving at the moment. There was merit in the suggestion, though. Barry could explain the situation to the two of them, and maybe if the message came from Barry, they’d actually listen to it. “Yes, you can talk to them, but I’m going first. Help Lisa with breakfast and get some food in you. I’ll call you when it’s time.”

Barry’s brows knitted, but he nodded obediently. “Okay, Len.”

Lisa got to her feet. “I’ll go get dressed, then. After breakfast, I’m going to make a run into town and get some supplies, but I’ll be back before noon. I was thinking of taking Hart along - he looked pretty shook up, and I want to know why.” She headed for the door, then paused in the doorway. “Do you want anyone?”

“Send Mick to me,” Len said, heading for the bathroom. It really was great to have a team of people who knew what he wanted. One day the entire Rogues would be as well-oiled as he, Lisa, and Mick were. “I want his take, and he can help move our guests to where they’ll be staying for the duration.”

“You got it,” Lisa said, and breezed out. Barry followed, looking far less happy about the situation.

Len showered and dressed, not hurrying. He needed time to decide exactly what he wanted to say. But by the time Mick entered the room, he was dressed and fairly certain.

Mick was literally the only person in the universe - other than maybe Barry - who could enter this room without knocking and wouldn’t get an earful or a gun in his face. He was fully dressed, carrying his heat gun, and eating a blueberry muffin. He settled himself on the sofa and put his slippered feet on the coffee table.

“Tell me what happened with Ramon,” Len said, planting himself in front of Mick and folding his arms. “You were supposed to be watching him.”

“Thought I was, but you didn’t say I couldn’t sleep, boss,” Mick growled, glaring balefully up at him. So his feelings were hurt. Poor baby. “Dunno how he got the door key without waking me up. Kid must climb like a goddamn monkey.”

The answer, to Len’s mind, was that Mick was drunk. But Mick existed in a state of perpetual near-drunkenness anyway, and Len didn’t really blame him. Normally, it didn’t cause problems, and he couldn’t in good conscience lay all the blame on it this time, either. “We all got lazy,” he decided. “When the Flash first came to the party last year, I kept him chained up until he proved himself. I thought Cisco would behave, since his friend is here, but obviously I was too optimistic.”

Mick nodded. “He’s a slippery one. He wasn’t fightin’ me at all, just acting scared. But the minute he had the chance, he went for it.”

“Did he give you any idea why he left? Was he just making a break for it and ran into West and Wells by coincidence, or did he know they were coming?”

“Didn’t say nothin’ except that he wasn’t trying to escape,” Mick said, rolling his eyes. “And begging us not to hurt anyone.”

Len hummed, musing. “I still think he should be safe enough to let out when we’re all awake, but I want him locked up securely at night. There are too many heroes in this house for comfort.”

“You got it, buddy.”

Len paused, and tightened his folded arms against his chest, gripping his elbows. He’d been _happy_ to be here this year, anticipating a near-relaxing week with his lover. The retreat last year had been chaotic and dangerous, but through the shared experience, the Rogues had been brought closer together. He couldn’t forget that they were all murderers and most of them were highly unpredictable, but within the bounds of that knowledge, they were becoming something like a team. He’d thought that the stress of bringing them all together from last year was virtually behind them.

Apparently not. Apparently this year was shaping up to be stressful, after all, though he couldn’t imagine that it’d be just as potentially deadly.

He had to stay on his toes, not allow Barry to make him soft.

“Lisa’s going into town,” he said. “While she’s gone, you keep an eye on Cisco. You can let him out, but you’re gonna have to keep him close whether he likes it or not. Talk to the Tricksters and see if they’ve got anything we can use to keep him on a tether. The other Rogues might be upset if they see him off the leash so soon after an escape attempt. In the meantime, I’m going to pay a visit to Joe West and Harrison Wells.”

Mick got to his feet, and grunted his agreement.

Len headed out of the room and down the steps to the second floor. The house was waking and there was no sign of a battle the night before. Down one of the hallways, he spotted Axel Walker sitting in a chair, front two legs tipped up so he was leaning back against the wall. Len walked towards him.

“Morning Snart,” Axel yawned.

“Anything?” Len asked, gesturing towards the door.

“Didn’t hear anything. They’ve been talking, but I can’t hear what they said.”

Len nodded and held his hand out. Axel gave him the key to the door and he unlocked it and entered the corner suite.

These rooms were fairly large, but not as big as his own. They had been remodeled at some point into family-friendly suites, with two bedrooms and a sitting room between them, so the parents could have their kids and still get some romance on if they were quiet. Len glanced around thoughtfully. Each man was chained securely to the bed in one of the rooms, far enough apart that they probably had to call out to each other, but it was still possible for them to talk.

He glanced right and met the eyes of Harrison Wells. Len had heard he was dead, and before that, he was apparently the reason Barry had recruited him to get everyone out of the pipeline. Wells’ jaw dropped at the sight of him, and Len decided to talk to him later. His real quarry was in the room to the left.

He entered the master bedroom and slid the door closed, then paused, contemplating his prisoner. “Good morning, Detective West,” he said coldly. “It seems our little chat yesterday didn’t quite sink in. I assume you were already on the grounds in the midst of a rescue operation when Barry called you.”

Joe jerked towards him. His wrists were handcuffed behind him and then attached via a length of heavy chain to the headboard. He strained, baring his teeth angrily at Len, but the headboard was solid oak, and didn’t so much as rattle. “Bastard!” Joe snapped. “You really think you can get away with all this?”

“ _Please_ ,” Len said, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you always this overdramatic?”

“You kidnapped my son and Cisco, _again_ ,” Joe growled. “You escaped from prison.”

“And how exactly am I meant to have done both of those things at the same time?” Len asked mildly.

“Don’t even try to tell me that you weren’t behind the whole damn thing, Snart!”

“I actually wasn’t. But I’ll concede that that doesn’t really matter.”

Joe glared balefully at him. “I want to see Barry and Cisco.”

“Cisco’s grounded.”

The detective frowned, then leaned forward. “Barry, then, at least. Let me see him. I just need to know that he’s okay.”

Len began to pace unhurriedly. “You realize that I let him _call_ you yesterday for the sole reason that he knew you’d be worried. Now that apparently wasn’t good enough for you.” 

“The fact that you ‘let’ him call me is exactly why it wasn’t good enough, Snart,” Joe said. “You treat him like a toy. Now let me see him, _alone_ , without you standing next to him pouring poison in his ear. I want to talk to my son!”

Len glanced sidelong at Joe. “You realize that you really aren’t in a position to make demands, Detective.” He paused, and turned to face his prisoner fully, fingertips pressed together and a smirk curving his lips. “If I let you see Barry, what am I gonna get in return?” Of course, Len couldn’t really stop Barry from seeing Joe. He had already made the request, and Len wouldn’t try to deny him, but Joe didn’t know that.

Joe looked rather stumped, so Len decided to help him out. “You know, I am in a good mood, so in the spirit of Christmas, I’ll make you this offer: I _will_ let you see Barry. You can talk to him as long as you like and satisfy yourself that he’s here of his own free will. When you’re satisfied, then you and Wells and Cisco will go, and _leave us alone_ to have our Christmas. I’ll then deliver Barry to you on New Year’s Eve, as planned.”

A gust of wind rattled the window panes, slamming the shutters. Joe started at the sound and turned his head to look, but Len remained laser-focused, feeling a surge of pleasure at the evidence of how on-edge Joe was. 

Len took a slow step forward, attracting Joe’s attention again. “ _If_ , however, you lie and do something _intensely stupid_ \- like, say, bringing the CCPD here to rescue Barry - then I assure you, a lot of cops are going to die. You must realize who’s here, I hope? James Jesse. Mark Mardon. Kyle Nimbus. It’ll be a slaughter if you try to ruin their Christmas, and I don’t think there’s much I can do about it, even if I were so inclined.”

Joe’s cheeks paled, then he rallied stubbornly. “What if Barry decides to come home with me?”

Len’s teeth gritted. He knew that was unlikely, but. “Then he is free to go.” Joe’s expression darkened with suspicion, and Len just folded his arms. “Do we have a deal? If not, then you’d better settle in, because it’s going to be a long week for you. Also, I don’t know how long I can keep Mardon or Nimbus from murdering you in your bed.”

The detective’s jaw worked. “We have a deal. Now let me talk to Barry.”

“Good. I will. Later,” Len said, and breezed from the room, shutting the door behind him. Joe shouted at him indistinctly, and he ignored him, gazing across to the other bedroom, where Wells was still gazing at him with an odd look on his face. Len drifted in his direction, though he really didn’t have much to say to the man.

“So… you’re the new Harrison Wells,” he said, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.

Wells’ brows furrowed. “That’s the mildest reaction I’ve gotten so far.”

“Yeah, well, the old you didn’t murder anyone I like,” Len pointed out calmly. “What’s your story?”

“I… Well, I tracked your cold gun, and my purpose here was to assist in rescuing Mr. Ramon and the Flash, which didn’t work out so well,” Wells said. “Ah… I’m guessing you’re _not_ the mayor of Central City in this universe.”

Len stared at him, then leaned against the door jamb as he started to laugh. He didn’t stop laughing for a while.


	7. I’m Not Wearing Those Douche Cuffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Axel Walker: Fashion Disaster

Cisco lay on Mick Rory’s bed in a heap of misery. This was partly - mostly? - his fault, right? He was so stupid.

He should have just waited until morning. Maybe if he hadn’t tried to go wandering around alone in a house filled with evil psychopaths, Joe and Harry wouldn’t’ve gotten captured. Maybe they’d have checked out the place and done a little recon, then gone and gotten a lot of backup. Like, a _lot_ of backup.

And then a lot of people would have died, probably, because how do you fight all these metas all at the same time without the Flash? And without Cisco, for that matter, because he was a totally experienced and amazing support guy.

But setting Joe and Harry’s actions aside, Cisco still should’ve waited until morning. Or at least remembered that Hartley had been in the parlour and not gotten jumped like a fucking dumbass. 

Brooding over his own mistakes was getting old, but he couldn’t quite seem to stop. His arm was hanging by a short chain from the bedpost, at least a foot over his head, which was making his shoulder ache. The metal cuff bit into his wrist, too. Overall, it sucked, but not enough to make him sit up. 

His stomach rumbled. How was he hungry?

The house smelled like bacon, that’s how.

He was all alone and stupid and deprived of bacon.

The door opened and Cisco pushed up into a sitting position, expecting Heat Wave to stump back in. His expectation was realized, as the scarred man came through the door, but he wasn’t alone. Axel Walker slouched into the room in his wake.

“Hey there,” Axel said with a cheeky smirk, then looked up at Mick. “You gonna hold him?”

“Do I need to?” Mick asked. It seemed like he was responding to Axel, but Mick was looking at Cisco.

“Hold me for what?” Cisco asked nervously. His heels pressed into the mattress, as he shrunk against the headboard.

Axel held up one hand. A pair of studded leather cuffs dangled from his slender fingers. 

Cisco stared at them for a second. “Are those yours, dude?” They looked like something Axel would wear.

“Yours now,” Axel said with a malicious grin, advancing on Cisco, who pressed back even further.

“You’ve got to be shitting me. I’m not wearing those douche cuffs!”

“You’re wearing ‘em,” Mick informed him sharply. “Snart’s orders. Up to you whether you get hurt puttin’ them on or not.” 

Cisco froze at that and hung his head. Maybe he could have overpowered Axel alone, but with Mick in the room he had no illusions. He nodded and uncurled. “Fine! Just do it.”

Axel huffed, almost like he was hoping that Cisco might fight. He closed the distance and unlocked the handcuffs, then strapped the leather cuffs around Cisco’s wrists, and another set on his ankles. They were linked by a long chain, and locked with a key, but a lot more comfortable than the metal handcuffs had been. Cisco’s skin crawled with each brush of Axel’s fingers as the young Trickster adjusted the straps and chained his hands and feet together. The moment the last one had been locked into place around Cisco’s right ankle, he pulled his feet away, curling into a ball and glaring at Axel balefully.

But Axel wasn’t done. He produced another leather strap, which Cisco recognized as a collar, with some kind of gaudy jewel on it. He jerked away when Axel tried to put it on. “Are you kidding, man?”

Axel cuffed him, hard, on the side of the head, then fastened the collar around his neck while he was still reeling. When the key had turned in the lock and the collar was secured around Cisco’s throat, Axel gave him a friendly slap across the face that set the burns on his cheek flaring with pain. Cisco yelped, and cringed away, eyes watering, and watched warily as Axel swaggered back to Mick--

\--Who cuffed Axel hard enough to send him stumbling against the nearest wall. “No one said you could hurt the Snarts’ pet,” he growled, then extended a palm. “Gimme the keys and the thing and get out, pissant.”

Axel sneered and shot a hateful look at Cisco, then dropped the keys and some kind of device into Mick’s palm and then beat a hasty retreat. The door slammed behind him and Cisco was left alone with Heat Wave. Mick pocketed the objects Axel had given him.

Cisco fiddled with the edge of one of the wrist cuffs and swallowed, feeling the collar press against his Adam’s apple. “Now what?”

Mick looked at him. “Breakfast.” He approached the bed and caught Cisco by the chain linking his wrists cuffs. Cisco tensed, but all he did was unlock the chain, leaving the cuffs where they were. He did the same with his ankles, then pocketed the chains. “Come on. You gotta stick close by me now, though, all right?”

How was that different from before? Cisco slid off the bed, sidling past Mick. “Okay?”

Mick tapped his own throat. “You get too far away from me, and you’re gonna have a bad day.”

Cisco stared at him for a moment, his stomach sinking. “What?”

Mick rolled his eyes. “You got a bomb strapped to your neck, pretty.”

Cisco’s knees gave out. Mick grabbed him by the arm before he hit the floor. He stared up at the taller man in horror, wanting more than anything to claw the thick strap off of his neck, but he knew that was no use. It was well-made and wasn’t just going to be torn away. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, as Mick hauled him upright again. “I wasn’t even trying to escape! I didn’t know they were out there.”

“Not my call.”

Cisco jerked his arm out of Mick’s grip and stumbled back a step, almost hyperventilating. Mick just stared at him neutrally. Cisco closed his eyes and struggled with himself. There was no point in freaking out. Nothing was going to change.

He drew a breath and let it out, then walked purposefully away from Heat Wave. He just had to focus on what needed to be done, and not on the skin-crawling fact that there was a bomb on his neck. _Focus, and breathe, Cisco. Stop panicking._

There weren’t any clothes to change into, and he was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, so he just put his shoes back on. Then he turned back to look at Heat Wave.

“You good?” Mick asked. 

Cisco gritted his teeth and squared his shoulders, raising his chin. “I’m good.”

Mick nodded and turned to the door. Cisco caught up with him and trailed after him down the hall and downstairs. He couldn’t resist speaking up once more, though.

“Uh, how close do I have to stay?”

Mick shrugged. “Dunno.”

_Fantastic._

They walked into the biggest kitchen Cisco had ever been in. It was practically a professionally appointed kitchen, with large work spaces and a double oven. This was the source of the bacon scent. Mark Mardon was babysitting a flat-topped grill covered in greasy slices of heavenly-smelling pig, and Bivolo was flipping pancakes on a second grill top next to him. There was no sign of Barry. 

Cisco stopped and stared at the sight. “Ay Dios, I think I must be dead and this is hell,” he murmured to himself. 

“Get in line, pretty. Or all the food’s gonna be gone.” Mick slapped him on the back, staggering him, and then walked over to Mardon. He grabbed three slices of bacon with his gloved hand and shoved them directly into his mouth, while Mark smacked his hand repeatedly with his spatula.

“There’s finished ones over there, you animal!” Mardon exclaimed, pointing at a series of platters piled high with eggs, bacon, buttered toast, and pancakes. Cisco gave the Rogues a wide berth and grabbed a plate, loading it with breakfast foods and pouring himself a cup of coffee. 

An arm slid around his shoulders and he jumped, nearly spilling his coffee all over himself. “Oooh, sorry Cisco. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Lisa purred.

“I’m not scared,” Cisco snapped, putting his coffee on the counter and sucking on his thumb, where a few scalding drops had landed. “What do you want, Lisa?”

Her eyes narrowed, apparently getting the hint that he wasn’t happy with her. She sighed and jerked her head towards a hallway. “We need to talk. Put that down and come with me.”

He quickly set his plate down and abandoned it as she pulled him away, but as they approached the doorway Cisco suddenly dug in his heels. “Wait, wait,” he said, his voice rising. “I’m supposed to stay with Heat Wave. They, they put a bomb on me.”

The Trickster - senior - straightened at his words, and his laugh rose high over the general babble of conversation. “Don’t you worry, my boy! There’s a radius of five hundred feet, so you can scurry around as much as you want within that range.” He grinned, baring his teeth. “Should give you _lots_ of space to get into all the trouble your little heart desires, eh?”

Cisco looked around, aware that everyone had stopped what they were doing and were watching him with interest. “Uh, okay. Thanks, Mr. Jesse,” he said, not knowing what else to say to that.

Lisa pulled him through the doorway, and into a small alcove, with a little counter and a wine rack. Through the door at the end of the short hallway, Cisco saw a formal dining room with a massive table. Lisa planted her hands on either side of him and leaned in, pressing him against the edge of the countertop.

“Why were you out of your room last night, Cisco?”

Cisco’s mouth went dry and his palms started sweating. He’d never seen that cold look in Lisa’s eyes before. Golden Glider had always been warm and flirtatious with him, but now he really saw the family resemblance to her brother. 

“I wasn’t trying to escape,” he said. “You have to believe me.”

She shifted back an inch or so. “Honey, I want to believe you, so give me something. Explain what you were thinking.”

He looked up at her, and then away. The thought of telling her the truth would involve admitting that he was a metahuman, and that petrified him. He had barely accepted it himself, and he didn’t know what the Rogues would do with that information. He could see the future. Surely that had to be something a bunch of criminals would want to exploit.

“I…” He stopped, struggling. “I just wanted to see the Flash.”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “ _Bullshit_.”

He looked up, hardening his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lisa. It’s the only answer I can give.”

She scowled at him. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He swallowed, then summoned a faint smile, lifting his hands to touch her arms and rub up and down. He cocked his head. “I’m cute, huh? You still think so?”

She rolled her eyes. “I do. But try something like that again and you’re going to get yourself killed. Is that really what you want?”

He sobered. “I’m really not trying to get myself killed. I just want to get through this week, I swear.”

Her arms slipped around him and she pressed her forehead to his. He closed his eyes, feeling the tension drain out of him. It was crazy, he knew, but enveloped in her arms, it all felt so much better. Too bad her brother was the one who’d ordered a bomb to be strapped to his neck. 

“Cisco,” she whispered. “You’re sweet, and kind, and you’re a lot stronger than any of those guys out there can understand. They see you as weak, and they’ll go after you if they get a chance. Not only that, but they’ll do the same to Lenny and I if they see an opportunity. That’s why I had to put that collar on you, and that’s why you _have_ to behave. If you don’t… they’re going to look to us to punish you, and I don’t want to do that. Do you understand me?”

He listened, every word sending little shivers down his spine. Until she mentioned the collar. He stiffened. “ _You_ put the collar on me?”

She sighed. “Cisco, it’s going to be f—”

“It’s _not_ fine, Lisa!” he snapped. He caught her upper arms and tried to push her off him, his heart pounding with anger. He’d thought it was Cold who’d done this. “How could you do this to me?”

She let him push her back, then curled her fingers around one of the D-rings on the collar and gave him a sharp tug. “Don’t shout at me,” she said warningly. “I did this to protect all of us. Can’t you understand that?”

He didn’t _want_ to understand it. He stood still, hunch-shouldered and glaring at the floor. She’d put a _bomb_ around his neck, and she wanted to go on like nothing was wrong?

“How is this any different from what your dad did to you?” he asked coldly. She started, and he smiled grimly. One point to Cisco Ramon.

“It’s completely different. I’m doing it to save your life,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. I’m _not_ my dad.”

He swallowed, suddenly feeling bad. Maybe that had been a low blow. 

He looked up, searching her expression. Her eyes were wide and angry, but there was hurt swirling in that storm as well. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “You’re not like your dad. I shouldn’t have said that… it’s not true.”

She nodded, a little jerkily, and turned away. He hesitated, then caught her elbow. “Hey…” he said softly. “Forgive me?”

Lisa glanced at him, a faint smile coming to her lips. “Forgive _me_?”

He found himself grinning, even as he wondered if he might have gone totally nuts. “Maybe. If I live through this and don’t get my head blown off.”

“Deal,” she said, and smiled. 

He kissed her, without quite intending to do it. She put her arms around his waist and held him close for a few moments, as they explored each other’s lips. Finally, they broke apart, and Cisco felt his cheeks flushing. Lisa, as always, just looked smug.

“I’m going into town for a couple hours. Need anything?”

Cisco rubbed the back of his head. He knew better than to ask to just be taken home. “Uh, a change of clothes would be nice?”

She nodded and turned away. “Be back soon, then.”

“Okay,” he said to her retreating back. He watched her go, then a loud growl coming from the vicinity of his stomach reminded him about breakfast, and he trotted back into the kitchen to retrieve his cooling plate and coffee cup. Maybe he could get through this, after all. Maybe.


	8. He's Not Harrison Wells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley and Lisa would make a pretty cute road trip movie duo.

Everyone was in the kitchen. The sizzle of bacon and the clatter of dishes filled Hartley’s ears. The smell of breakfast was tempting - he hadn’t even had coffee yet this morning - and his stomach growled, but the thought of eating made him nauseous.

He hadn’t slept a wink since he’d foiled Cisco Ramon’s escape attempt.

He had tried. Honestly he had. He had gone to his room and undressed and gotten into bed, but sleep had been impossible. He’d just lain there for hours staring at the ceiling, until the sun began to creep through the crack in the curtain.

There was a chair outside the room where the prisoners had been placed, but it was empty. Hartley vaguely recalled some talk of Axel Walker being given the first guard shift, but he had been called away. 

Hartley had a glove on his right hand. He gripped the handle and activated the glove. It vibrated, and the lock disengaged with a snap. He pulled the door open.

Before him was a sitting room, and two sets of closed doors. 

Hartley walked into the middle of the room and closed his eyes. He could hear two men breathing, shifting, the jangle of chains. Joe West wasn’t familiar to him, but he could distinguish the two of them from one another. He knew the Detective was in good shape, a big man, barrel chested. His breathing was deeper, slower.

Harrison’s cadence of breath was almost as familiar to Hartley’s as his own. Hartley opened his eyes and walked to the right-hand door. It was a pocket door, on rails, and he reached out and slid it to one side.

Harrison looked up. He was handcuffed to the bed with his hands behind his back. 

There was no recognition in his eyes when he looked at Hartley.

Hartley stared at him, his skin heating from the force of his rage. He wanted to reach across the room and strangle the man who gazed at him with nothing more than benign curiosity. How dare he look at him like that? “Who are you?” Hartley demanded.

Harrison’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Harrison Wells. Who are you?”

Hartley felt the burn of rejection again. He took a step forward, fists clenching at his sides, and Harrison’s gaze went unerringly to the glove on his right hand, eyes flickering with wary interest. Of course, he would instantly recognize the greatest source of threat.

“My name is Hartley Rathaway.”

Harrison’s head jerked up to meet his gaze. “Rathaway? From Rathaway Industries? What are you doing with these criminals?”

Hartley paused, momentarily confused. Then he heard someone calling his name. He turned his head, raising his head to listen though he knew Harrison couldn’t hear it. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Lisa’s lips still tingled, warm with the taste of Cisco’s sweet mouth, as she walked out of the kitchen and went in search of yet another young man in need of a pick-me-up. Apparently, this was her job for the foreseeable future. 

After poking around the front room and knocking on doors without success, she just stopped in the lobby and yelled. “Hartley Rathaway, I need you!”

Even if he were far away, she believed he’d likely hear her. That was the advantage of knowing what his power was.

She waited, and listened, head cocked and hands on hips. The clattering of dishes and the distant ‘whoosh’ of the Flash made it impossible for her to tell if Hartley was planning on responding to her call or not. Just as she was about to simply give up and go out by herself, there was the sound of a door opening, and footsteps. Hartley emerged from one of the upstairs hallways.

He looked slightly disheveled, his hood pulled up over his head and his skin pale from lack of sleep. He glared at her owlishly through his glasses. “What do you want?”

“I’m going into town to get some supplies. Want to come?”

He opened his mouth, and she knew he was going to say no. She wiggled fingers at him. “Come on Hart… wouldn’t you like to get out of this place for a bit? It’ll just be a couple of hours, and it’ll really help me out.”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “Fine. I’ll come with you.”

She beamed. He slouched down the stairs to join her, and they stepped outside. 

There had been some snowfall overnight, just an inch or two, and the ground glittered with fresh, untouched snow. In the distance, near the bottom of the hill, Lisa saw the large hedges and fencing that marked the limits of the property. There were trees in patches lower down, and to their left was a high hedge and a tangle of naked brambles. She hadn’t had a chance to check it out, but she’d heard a rumour that that was a hedge maze and rose garden.

The two black vans they’d used to kidnap the Flash and break Lenny out of prison sat outside, covered in a layer of white, alongside a couple of nondescript cars they’d appropriated for errands. Lisa walked over to a small red hatchback and unlocked it. Hartley began helpfully clearing the car of snow. 

A flicker of lightning heralded the arrival of the Flash, who came to an abrupt stop next to them. He had gouged a deep path in the snow with his speed. “Hey,” he said, eyes wide behind his cowl. “You’re going to get stuff?”

Hartley had tensed at the Flash’s sudden arrival, but he went back to brushing snow off the car. “What’re you doing running around alone, Flash?”

The Flash rolled his eyes, then quickly schooled his features when Hartley looked at him. Lisa hid a smile. “Mr. Snart told me to check the grounds and make sure there aren’t any intruders.”

“You mean _more_ intruders, surely,” Hartley said coldly.

The Flash shuffled his feet. “I didn’t know they were here, Hartley.”

“And if you had?”

The Flash ducked his head, then looked up again, green eyes fierce. “I’d have told them to go _home_ so they wouldn’t get hurt. I don’t _want_ to leave, Hartley, and I’m sorry you’re in a bad mood, but Harry isn’t the one you’re mad at, and neither am I.”

Lisa kept her silence, watching the two boys in their confrontation over matters she didn’t understand. Hartley took an aggressive step towards the Flash, hands clenching into fists. “I’m not _’mad’_ ,” he snarled, instantly giving the lie to his own words, and Lisa gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Hartley straightened, and pushed his glasses up, apparently realizing how he was acting. 

“Did you find anything, Flash?” she asked sweetly. 

He shook his head. “Detective West’s car is at the bottom of the hill. No sign of anyone else.”

“All right, be a good boy and go back to Lenny, then,” she instructed. “You don’t want to be out in the cold too long.”

Flash sighed softly and nodded. “I’m on my way.”

“He’s in the kitchen,” Hartley said, head cocked as if listening. “Go on.”

With another nod, the Flash seemed to disappear into a bolt of lightning. The front door opened and slammed shut as if on its down, as he went inside. 

“Let’s go,” Lisa said cheerfully. They got into the hatchback and Lisa backed out, then began navigating down the steep winding hill towards the gate. When they reached the bottom, Lisa turned left and onto the street, passing a black car that had been pulled over to the side of the road. That had to be Detective West’s car.

Twenty minutes into the ride, Hartley deigned to speak. “Where are we going?”

 _Ah, finally._ “We’re going to break into Cisco’s house and pack him some clothes for the week. I also need to do a little shopping. We’ll need more groceries to accommodate more guests, and Christmas presents.”

Hartley cocked his head. “Christmas presents?”

“For Cisco. Also, there’s whatever this is.” She slipped a hand into her pocket and withdrew the folded piece of paper that the Flash had handed her, right before he vanished into the house. She tossed it into Hartley’s lap.

Hartley unfolded it and read aloud. “’Lisa, can you please go to my house and get some things for me. They’re under my bed, wrapped and labelled’,” he read aloud. He looked at her. “You think the Flash is sending us to fetch his Christmas present for Mr. Snart?”

“I do.”

He crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the cup tray. “Adorable.”

“It _is_ adorable. Don’t be such a sourpuss, Hart.”

He grunted softly, and fell silent, looking out the window. They had reached the familiar streets of Central City, and Lisa turned in the direction of Cisco’s residence.

“By the way, I already know who the Flash is,” Hartley spoke up softly. “You don’t have to be worried about bringing me to Detective West’s house to get the presents.”

Lisa blinked. “Well, that’s helpful,” she said, and glanced at him sidelong. “What’s wrong, Hart? I know we Rogues don’t _do_ feelings, but… you know. I won’t tell anyone if you want to tell me.”

“That’s generous of you,” Hartley sneered. 

Lisa poked him in the thigh. “I also haven’t done anything to deserve that shitty attitude, young man.”

Hartley jumped, then slouched in his seat. “We’re practically the same age,” he muttered. 

Lisa just smirked. 

It was a simple matter to break into Cisco’s apartment. Thankfully, he lived alone and the security on his building was laughable. Lisa picked the lock in seconds and they spent a few minutes packing a bag for him. Hartley seemed to know his way around the place a little too well, but Lisa didn’t comment, and he didn’t offer an explanation.

Shopping didn’t take long, and then they pulled up in front of the West house. Lisa stopped and watched for a few minutes, but the house was dark and quiet. A Christmas tree glowed in one downstairs window, but there was no sign of movement.

“Shall we?” she said brightly, opening the door. 

Hartley followed in his continuing sullen silence as Lisa jimmied the front door lock and they entered the house. “Have you been here, before?” she asked casually.

“No,” Hartley said, casting his gaze around. “I expect his room is upstairs.”

“It is,” Lisa said with amusement, and Hartley blinked at her. She led the way up to Barry’s room, which she had already tossed once before to pack things for him. She wasted no time in pulling his blanket back and bending down to look under the bed to find several brightly-wrapped packages. It was impossible to tell which ones were for Lenny, so she pulled all of them out to find it.

Hartley picked one up and peered at it. “This one…has my name on it,” he said, baffled. “And this one— Roy Bivolo?”

Lisa stared. “No way…” 

They began sorting through the packages. As she suspected, there was one for every one of the Rogues. She grabbed a spare suitcase and they packed up all of the packages except for the ones marked “Caitlin”, “Iris”, Ronnie, Stein, and “Eddie”. Those would have to wait until after Christmas to be delivered. She didn’t plan on playing Santa Claus today.

Hartley’s mood seemed to have lightened as they walked back out of the house. Lisa paused to lock up, while Hartley put the suitcase full of presents in the car. 

As they drove out of the city, headed back to the house on the hill, Hartley suddenly spoke up. “I warned Harrison Wells that the particle accelerator might explode, and he fired me from STAR Labs. I was his protege, I was…” He swallowed. “I thought I was far more than that to him. But he cast me aside, and he ruined my life.”

Lisa bit her lip. “I thought he was dead.”

“He was. Is.” Hartley looked out the window again, the lights of the city reflecting in his glasses. “The man we took prisoner last night isn’t Harrison Wells.”

Lisa chewed over that. “Why are you so angry with him, then?”

Hartley was silent for so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. Finally, he sighed. “Because… he’s not Harrison Wells.”


	9. How Dare He Not Be Terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rogues make snow forts, and Mick loves mazes. 
> 
> ...What? I do what I like.

Cisco had been wondering all day - actually, if he was honest, he’d been wondering all year - what the Rogues did when they weren’t endangering innocent lives or stealing things. And specifically, what they did with themselves during their Christmas vacation.

It turned out that the answer was that they acted like big kids on a snow day.

After breakfast, someone found a coat for Cisco to borrow and they’d all trooped outside into the snow at the rear of the building. There was a wraparound porch - colonial style - on one side of the building, and Mick hauled Cisco to a large covered area on the porch, with a good view of the back lawn. A huge expanse of virgin snow glittered under the sun, its smooth surface immediately destroyed by the stamping feet of Mark Mardon, Kyle Nimbus, Shawna Baez, Roy Bivolo, and Axel Walker.

They loudly declared their intention to build snow forts. This was, apparently, Shawna’s idea.

In the Boring Adult Zone, Snart was seated on a bench, with Barry sitting comfortably in his lap like he was born there. James Jesse was there as well, drinking a hot chocolate and perched on the railing, his feet swinging back and forth.

Mick plunked himself down on the bench next to Snart and wrapped both arms around Cisco’s waist before he could even attempt to sit next to him. He yelped as he was dragged unceremoniously into Mick’s lap and pulled back against his chest.

Barry looked around as Cisco squirmed and then decided abruptly to _stop_ squirming. Mick’s breath was hot and growing rapid against his ear. 

“Hey Cisco,” said Barry.

“H-hey.” Cisco couldn’t stop blushing. “How’s it going, B- uh, Flash?” Maybe if they worked really hard at it they could all pretend together that his life wasn’t suffering.

Kyle was rolling large snowballs to form a rough circle, assisted by Roy, Axel, and Shawna. Mark appeared to be going it alone, erecting a massive snow structure using directed whirlwinds, and then decorating it with ice. What a show-off.

“I’m okay,” Barry said, offering him an awkward smile. He was wearing the cowl, but also a sweater that Cisco knew he’d seen before on Barry. There was a bit of cognitive dissonance in seeing Barry clothes with the Flash cowl on top. “You?”

“I’m _fan_ tastic,” Cisco said sarcastically.

“Oh don’t be _overdramatic_ , boy,” said James Jesse, which should win the prize for Most Hypocritical Statement Ever. “I heard about your naughty _shenanigans_ last night. You’re lucky you aren’t my son - I’d turn you over my knee. Instead, your handler seems to be treating you _very_ well. You even got to borrow some of Axel’s most prized possessions!”

Cisco swallowed several sarcastic responses. “Yeah, thank him for me, would you? The cuffs are totally my thing.” Okay, that was still pretty sarcastic.

“Oh yeah?” Mick grunted, and Cisco could practically _feel_ him grinning. A thick finger hooked under the collar and gave a tug. “You like them, pretty?”

Len snorted with amusement. “Stop teasing the poor kid, both of you. He doesn’t have a sense of humour.”

“I do so!” Cisco exclaimed. “I have the _best_ sense of humour.”

“He does, actually,” Barry said reasonably. Snart flicked him affectionately on the cheek with one finger, and Barry jumped, grinning. _Gross._

The group fell silent for a bit, watching the increasingly elaborate structures being built. Cisco let his attention wander, looking around at the scenery and trying to ignore the fingers rubbing gently up and down his arm. And the hand resting on his hip.

“Hey Mick,” Len said suddenly. “You getting attached?”

Cisco jumped and looked to his right. Snart was smirking wickedly at the two of them from behind Barry’s back, while Barry blinked at them, wide-eyed.

“Go fuck yourself, Snart,” Mick grunted, his voice slightly muffled by Cisco’s hair. He didn’t stop the petting of his arm, though.

“Hey,” Cisco said hastily, before they could travel any further down _that_ particular rabbit hole. “Is that a hedge maze over there?”

“Woah, really?” Barry asked, head whipping around and back straightening with excitement. At that, Cisco saw his chance. If he could just get a little time alone with Barry, then he could explain what had happened the night before. And then? Well, then Team Barisco would be working on the problem together, rather than Cisco all on his lonesome. 

“You want to explore it with me, Flash?” he asked hopefully. _Come on, they trust Barry. Just give us a few minutes on our own. That’s all I ask._

Barry twisted in Snart’s lap and looked at him imploringly. “Can we check it out?”

“Sure,” Len said, and Cisco’s heart surged. “But not by yourself. Come on.” He patted Barry on the hip, and the speedster jumped to his feet. Heart sinking, Cisco slid off Mick’s lap. “You coming, Mick?”

“Yeah,” Mick said, heaving himself to his feet. “A maze. Sounds _cool_.”

“It’s probably not that cool,” Cisco stammered as Mick wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“No, it’s totally awesome,” Mick said gravely. “I love mazes.”

“You do not!” Cisco exclaimed. “No way.”

“I do so.”

Len made a soft noise and Cisco looked at him. He was walking next to Barry, their arms linked at the elbow, and he had his face turned in to Barry’s shoulder, Snart’s own shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Barry was snickering, eyes dancing, and Cisco struggled not to find the whole thing adorable. _How dare he not be terrible,_ Cisco thought, his own face working to suppress a grin and failing miserably.

But despite all that, he couldn’t avoid frustration as they walked across the snowy lawn to the entrance to the maze. How was he going to get Barry alone?

Corridors stretched in three directions. The centre corridor went only five feet before hitting a T-junction. 

“All right,” Cold said decisively. “Four of us, and four directions, so we split up. First to the middle wins. Flash - no cheating.”

“Aw, man,” Barry said, grinning. “Okay.”

“Ready… _go_ ,” said Snart, and he took off down the left corridor. Barry trotted forward, and Cisco quickly headed after him, as Mick headed off to the right. 

“Barry,” Cisco hissed as they reached the T-junction. “I need to—”

“Go,” Barry whispered, pointing left, and then ran off to the right. Cisco gritted his teeth, frustrated, then reluctantly turned left and started down the corridor. 

The maze was well-designed and fairly well maintained. Though there were no roses at this time of year, there were brambles crawling all over the hedges, which created an effective barrier in any weather. He could imagine that in the summer the walls would be heavy with blossoms, but no less impassable. The hedges were over six feet high as well.

It was surprisingly peaceful in the maze. He could hear the crunching of snow, and shifting of leaves as he walked. He kept the wall to his left shoulder and turned left at the first junction, then hit a dead-end, turned around— and nearly ran straight into Barry, as he flashed into sight.

“What did you need to talk to me about, Cisco?” Barry whispered.

“Oh thank god,” Cisco murmured softly, relieved that Barry had picked up on what he wanted. “Barr, I need to tell you— I Vibed last night.” Barry’s eyes widened and he nodded urgently, gesturing to him to continue. “I don’t know, maybe it was a dream,” Cisco went on hastily. “It felt like a dream, but it felt like Vibing, too. This girl - like a ghost? - she was floating above me, and she pulled, like, my soul out of my body. It felt so nice but…but my body was dying. And, and when I woke up? I was totally freezing and had these burns on my face where she touched me.” He touched one of the spots. The redness had faded quickly, but they were still tender.

Barry’s jaw was open in amazement as he took in the story. “What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know! But she was begging me for help.”

Barry nodded. “You don’t want to tell anyone.” It wasn’t really a question, but Cisco shook his head rapidly anyway. Barry drew a breath and let it out. “Well, I don’t know what to say for now. Maybe we can figure out a chance for you to Vibe again and get more info. I’ll try to talk to Len - without letting on about your powers - and we’ll see. Okay? Maybe he’ll be willing to give us some time alone.”

Cisco nodded, letting out a breath. Thank goodness. It just felt better knowing that his best friend had his back. “What about Joe and Harry?” he asked hastily. “Are they okay?”

“Yeah,” Barry said. “I’m going to talk to Joe later. Len said he’ll let them - and you - go if Joe’s willing to promise to let me stay and not do anything to try to rescue me. I’ll…I’ve just got to try to convince him.”

“Well, I hope he’s willing to chill out about you and Cold, dude,” Cisco said, almost dizzy with relief. Maybe he wouldn’t have to stay all week, after all. “This whole thing is stressing me out.”

“I know,” Barry said mournfully. He put a hand on Cisco’s shoulder. “Go left out of here, two rights, and two more lefts, and you’ll be in the middle,” he added, and then he flashed away. 

Cisco grinned, and then raced off, following the directions Barry had given. As promised, he made the turns and burst out from between two hedges into a large square area with a fountain in the centre. The fountain was made of stone, depicting a girl pouring out a large urn into a stone pool. Right now, the basin was dry and half-filled with rotting autumn leaves. 

Leonard Snart was seated on the bench next to the fountain, tugging a pair of gloves on and hunching against the cold. Cisco could relate. His cheeks were starting to burn from the low temperature, and his fingers were growing stiff, though at least in the hedge maze they were protected from the wind.

“Enjoy your little chat with Barry?” Len asked coolly. 

Cisco felt his cheeks grow hot. “I-I dunno what you mean.”

“Please.” Len flicked his fingers in his direction. “Give me a little credit.”

Barry emerged from the maze, showing no signs of being winded. “Wow,” he said innocently. “That was great. I always wanted to explore a real hedge maze.”

“Come on,” Len said, getting to his feet. “Now that we’ve all had our fun, let’s go rescue Mick. He’s probably lost. We’ll be stuck here half an hour if we wait for him to join us.”

He led the way back into the maze, with Barry at his side and Cisco trailing after. Was Snart angry? He couldn’t quite tell. He just hoped that Barry wasn’t going to get punished or something for conspiring with him. He also hoped that Barry was up to keeping his secret, even under these conditions.

Immediately after having the thought, Cisco felt bad. He had no reason not to trust Barry… but it wasn’t really a matter of trust. Cisco of all people knew how persuasive Captain Cold could be if he put his mind to wanting to know something.


	10. Pop Culture References, Grit, and Adorableness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len...fucks up.

Barry was lying to him.

Len wasn’t a total idiot, so he had easily surmised when Cisco made his suggestion that he and Barry go into the maze, that he wanted to speak with him alone. He hadn’t interfered with that just to be an asshole - in the grand scheme of things he wasn’t in any way threatened by the possibility of Barry having a little alone time with his best friend - but the look on Cisco’s face had been funny. 

Besides, one still had to keep up appearances. James Jesse had been right there, and he would literally kill both of the boys just for laughs. It particularly wasn’t safe to let Cisco wander around on his own. He didn’t have super-speed if someone cornered him - just a lot of pop culture references, grit, and adorableness. It wouldn’t save his life.

But now Barry was lying to him, and Len wasn’t _okay_ with that.

He could tell from the slightly tense way the younger man hunched up as Len cuddled up against him, that Barry was preoccupied by something. Whatever Cisco had had to tell him, it wasn’t good.

Mick was oblivious, of course. Len’s partner was enjoying feeling Cisco up so much he didn’t even seem to care how cold it was outside. Len was content to let him do it. So long as Mick was monopolizing Cisco’s affections, Len didn’t have to confront his own conflicted feelings about the possibility of Lisa dragging him off by the hair like some kind of cave woman. And Mick would keep the rest of the Rogues at bay - metahuman or not, everyone was basically terrified of Len’s partner.

Which left Len with nothing to do but pick away at this situation with Barry like a scab. 

“Mmmm,” he purred into his lover’s ear as he slipped his hand up under Barry’s sweater, making the younger man shiver and gasp softly. “So what did Ramon want to talk to you about?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Barry said unconvincingly, and snuggled in a little closer. “Hey, you think I could maybe take Joe and Harry some food?”

That was a very reasonable request. The prisoners were probably hungry, as it was getting close to noon and no one had brought them breakfast. On the other hand, they were jerks who were actively trying to ruin Len’s Christmas.

“No,” Len said stubbornly. “In a bit,” he amended as Barry tensed under his hands. 

Cisco kept shooting them awkward looks. Mick wasn’t being too handsy, so Len had to assume that he was trying to warn Barry to keep things secret. Which only increased Len’s certainty that he had to know what was going on.

“We’re going inside,” he announced, and patted Barry on the ass. 

Barry jumped to his feet in response, blushing furiously. “O-oh, are we?” he asked, half shy and half playful, which made Len want to shove his tongue down his throat.

“You sticking around here, Mick?” Len asked, shooting Cisco a wicked look. The kid looked stricken. He really needed to chill out.

“Thought me and the kid could go warm up by the fire,” Mick remarked. “You good with that?” he asked Cisco, which was a minor miracle. Len would have expected him to just haul Cisco off without bothering to ask.

“Uh… Sure?” Cisco said awkwardly, and Mick simply got to his feet. Cisco squeaked and clutched at his shoulders, feet dangling as Mick headed inside.

“Have _fun_ , boys~” James caroled after them.

Len followed the pair inside, arm in arm with Barry, but he had no interest in cozying up by the fire with Mick and Cisco. No, it was time to get some alone time with Barry. So while Barry started to head in the direction of the parlour, following Mick and Cisco, Len gave him a tug and headed upstairs with his speedster in tow.

“Where’re we going now?” Barry asked, more curiosity than wariness in his tone. 

“There’s a good spot,” Len told him, and headed for the library. 

There was indeed a good spot - a collection of massive squashy chairs just perfect of cuddling up. Bonus, Len could watch the proceedings in the back yard from the bay window, while he and Barry sat and had a _talk_.

Of course, he couldn’t just ask Barry what he wanted to know. He’d tried that, and Barry had done a pretty shitty job of continuing the lie. He’d have to use a more indirect approach.

So he settled into the chair and tucked Barry against him. They kissed softly for a few long minutes, as Len slid his hands up under Barry’s shirt and felt up his smooth, flawless skin.

The sound of an engine and the crunching of snow under tires told him that Lisa and Hartley were likely back from their errands. Barry didn’t seem to notice, fully absorbed with what Len was doing with his hands. Len all but purred like a contented cat, slipping a hand down and undoing Barry’s fly. 

Barry wriggled with delighted anticipation, giving a soft gasp as Len slipped his hand inside his underwear and began to pleasure him. The younger man moaned and clutched at him, fingers biting pleasantly into Len’s shoulders. Barry’s hot mouth closed on Len’s throat, eager lips raising a dark mark that Len thought he might be wise to cover. But that was what turtlenecks and parkas were for.

“Len…” Barry moaned into his ear. 

“I’ve got you,” Len murmured. His hand stroked over Barry’s prick slowly, taking his time, enjoying the feel of it in his palm. “Barry, do you trust me?”

“Completely,” Barry said, his voice rich with devotion. “I trust you, Len.”

Len kissed him on the lips. God, he could do that all day, but when he had to come up for air, he tucked Barry’s face against his neck, hand still slowly pleasuring him. Barry moaned and sank against him. After a few minutes, Len judged that he was sufficiently distracted and in a good enough mood that he could try again.

“What did Cisco want?” he asked.

“Huh?” Barry lifted his head, blinking at Len like he though he hadn’t heard him right.

Len sighed and lifted his free hand, placing it to the back of Barry’s neck and pressing him back down again. “Just tell me what Cisco told you in the maze.”

Barry stiffened. “No, Len.” His hands came up and pressed against Len’s chest.

Len frowned. _Damnit_. “What’s wr—”

“Stop!” 

Len’s hand slowed, but Barry pushed hard, and slid right off Len’s lap, pulling away and landing on the floor. Len stared down at him in consternation, as Barry glared up at him angrily.

“You can’t do that, Len,” Barry growled, climbing to his feet and tucking himself away with quick, harsh movements of his hands. “You can’t use that to get information out of me.”

Len sighed and got to his feet. “Barry, you’re over reacting,” he drawled, sticking his hands in his pockets. His heart was racing, but he kept his face schooled to reassure Barry. 

Barry’s eyes narrowed behind his cowl, his jaw clenched in a way that was far too familiar - Ferris Air, Len realized with a jolt. Barry was looking at him with that same sense of anger and betrayal. “I’m _not_ overreacting, Len,” Barry said. 

Len fell silent, struggling to think of something to say that would fix this. “You said you trusted me,” he pointed out. If Barry did trust him, then why the secrecy? 

Barry gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. “I _do_ trust you.” Then he raised his head, squared his shoulders. “I want to talk to Joe. Right now.”

Len didn’t much like the challenging look in his eyes. What was this, some kind of test? He felt himself leaning forward, answering the challenge, and Barry settled himself on his feet like he was getting ready for a fight.

No, this wasn’t going well. Len reined himself in with an effort and straightened. “Of course, babe. If that’s what you want.”

That angry stubbornness flickered and died in Barry’s eyes, replaced by a guilty expression that gave Len a flare of satisfaction for one moment before he started calling himself names. _You’re a fucking idiot,_ he berated himself. _Is pissing him off and betraying his trust really going to get you anything you actually want?_

His inner voice sounded a little like Lisa.

“I’m sorry,” Barry said, further proving that he was a better person than Len could ever be. “I just… need a little time.”

Len gritted his teeth and suppressed an entirely selfish impulse to refuse. He took a step towards Barry, lifting a hand, and the younger man turned away. Len drew a breath. “No, _I’m_ sorry. You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. I was being an asshole.”

Barry was staring at the floor, brows drawn together behind his cowl. At least he didn’t look angry anymore, but the guilty expression was no better, really. Len knew he had no reason to feel guilty, but there he was, obviously blaming himself for the distance between them. 

“I want to tell you,” Barry admitted softly. “It’s just not up to me. And… I _will_ tell you, but not until I can figure out how, okay?”

Oddly, that was reassuring. Len nodded. “Sure, babe.” He paused. “You can bring them some food, too. How’s that?”

Barry beamed, and it was like the sun shining down on Len again. “That sounds great.”

* * *

There were few things that felt worse than your boyfriend trying to use sex to manipulate you. Barry had long ago lost any fear of Len taking advantage of him or forcing him into anything, but that only made the betrayal feel even worse. He knew that in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t the _worst_ thing Len could have done, but he still knew it’d take time to forgive him. 

They headed downstairs together to the kitchen. Barry spotted Cisco sitting by the fire, seated in Mick’s lap and curled up comfortably against his shoulder. Lisa was with them, and all three seemed to be chatting. It reassured Barry to see Cisco actually smiling and talking, almost like everything was normal. 

Len stood back, arms folded and expression neutral as Barry dug into the fridge and cupboards and piled a plate high with sandwich makings. Barry’s stomach was starting to growl anyway, and he knew Joe and Harry would have to be pretty hungry by now. 

It made him feel cold for Len not to be right there with him, though. The older man was keeping his distance, and while there was a part of him that was grateful that Len was taking his feelings seriously, there was another part that just wanted to forget the whole incident, hold him tight and tell him anything he wanted to know.

But he didn’t say anything. Not yet. 

There was a chair outside of the room where Joe and Harry were being kept. Len seated himself in the chair after unlocking the door. “Just knock when you’re done,” he said, and leaned back against the wall. “I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Len,” Barry said softly, and entered the suite. 

Stepping inside, he didn’t immediately know where to find Joe. He poked around, sliding a door open to see Harry seated on the bed. “Hey,” Barry said, smiling awkwardly as he darted to the Earth-2 scientist’s side. “Hey, how’re you doing?”

Harry looked him over critically. “As well as can be expected, Barry. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Barry set the tray down and inspected Harry’s bonds. A simple set of handcuffs kept him chained to the headboard. Barry grabbed the chain in both hands and vibrated it until it shattered into pieces. He knew Len probably wouldn’t be happy with him for that, but he’d just have to deal with it. Harry was locked in a room, after all. How much trouble could he get into?

“I’m getting you both out of here,” Barry said. “But you’re gonna have to wait just a little longer. Once I talk to Joe, Len’s going to let you both go home.”

Harry arched a brow. “And you?”

“I’m staying,” Barry said. “Voluntarily.” He drew a breath, debating. “I’ll explain it all later, I promise. You want a sandwich?”

Harry eyed him, rubbing his chafed right wrist with his left hand. “Sure. I’ll have a sandwich.”

Barry speed-prepared one for him and pressed it into his hand. “Just…stay here, okay? We aren’t in any danger, so long as we don’t antagonize the metahumans.”

“You mean like the one who visited me a couple of hours ago?” Harry asked softly.

Barry froze, thinking of Kyle Nimbus. Had he come through the locked door? No, if he had then Harry would be dead. “Which one?” he asked worriedly.

“Young man by the name of Hartley Rathaway.” He held up his hand, showing off the wristwatch that doubled as a metahuman detector. Of course, the Rogues wouldn’t have known what it was. It wasn’t sitting up and chirping now, so Harry had to have it on vibrate.

Barry swallowed. “Ah… yeah, like him. He’s not so bad… but he’s got a grudge against the other Harrison Wells,” he explained unhappily. “Hopefully he’ll keep away until you go.”

As usual, Harry was difficult to read. He shrugged and bit into his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “I’m sure everything’ll be fine. Go speak to Joe, I won’t cause any trouble.”

Barry smiled, slightly reassured, and took the tray of sandwich makings across the room to the other door. He slid it open and Joe practically lunged towards him, his eyes wide. “Barry!”

“I’m okay,” Barry said urgently. He moved to Joe’s side before the big man could hurt himself. He set the tray down and gave Joe’s chains the same treatment he had given Harry’s. The next moment, Joe’s arms were around him, and they were hugging tightly.

“Barr, I’m sorry,” Joe murmured. “I hope I didn’t give you any trouble. Are you really okay?”

“I’m _fine_ , Joe,” Barry insisted, giving the other man a squeeze. “You didn’t give me trouble. What does that even mean?”

Joe withdrew enough that Barry could see his face. Barry pulled off his cowl and tossed it aside for now, letting Joe see him without any barriers between them. “I don’t know, Barr, the whole thing just makes me crazy,” Joe confessed, frowning. “I know you think you’re in love with him, but—”

“I _am_ in love with him,” Barry said firmly, though he felt an internal flicker of doubt. It had been a year, a whole year of being together, and Len still hadn’t said those words in return. Barry told himself that just because he didn’t say it, didn’t mean he didn’t feel it, and what he’d _said_ sounded nearly the same… but he still hadn’t actually _said_ the words. Would someone who really loved him really do some of the things Len had done? If Len loved him, wouldn’t he make some effort to make peace with Joe? Wouldn’t he at least try?

He wrenched his thoughts away from that depressing spiral, and sighed at the look of pain in Joe’s eyes. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you about this,” he went on, stuffing his own doubts down deep. “Not at Christmas, not here, and honestly - not ever. Len is not the monster you think he is, but I know you’re not open to understanding that, and I’m just going to have to live with that fact.”

“Barry—”

Barry didn’t let him interrupt. He shook his head quickly. “No, stop. I asked you not to interfere, and you risked your life - risked _Cisco’s_ and _Harry’s_ life, to force me to come home with you. How is that not just as manipulative as anything Len might have done?”

Joe’s mouth opened in a silent ‘O’ of horror, and he went pale. “That’s _not_ — how can you think that, Barry?”

Barry shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t know what else to think.”

A silence fell between them. Joe rubbed the chafed skin of his wrist and frowned at Barry, while Barry occupied himself with making and eating a sandwich.

Finally, Joe spoke up softly. “I love you, Barry. Everything I do, I do because of that.”

“I know.” Barry looked up. “I love you, too. Can you please accept that what I want to do is spend Christmas with Len? All I ask is that you go home with Harry and Cisco, and not try to interfere with that.”

“Can you promise me that no one’s forcing you to say that to me?” Joe murmured.

Barry started. “Is _that_ what you think? That I’m not allowed to speak my mind?”

“He put that… that thing back on you.” Joe pointed to Barry, and for a second he didn’t understand. Then he blushed deeply and reached up, touching the collar around his neck. 

“Ah… it. I mean, it’s honestly just for show. It doesn’t even really repress my speed - hardly at all, without the rest of the set. Watch.” He flashed around the room, causing the paintings on the walls to rattle, and then returned to Joe’s side and perched on the edge of the bed.

Joe hesitated. “But if it’s not to stop your speed…do I even want to ask?”

Barry’s ears were burning. “It’s not what you think!” he protested, though it sort of was exactly like that. “The other Rogues, I mean, like Mardon and Nimbus, they still aren’t my biggest fans. They like to think that Len has some kind of hold over me, that I’m cowed or scared. So long as they think that, they don’t mind me being here. But Len has treated me with total respect, I swear.”

Joe drew in a long breath and let it out, rubbing a hand over his face. “Kid, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Barry handed him a sandwich. “You got over Iris marrying Eddie. You can get used to this, too.”

“You’re _not_ marrying that criminal.”

Barry felt a lump rise in his throat. He hadn’t even really _thought_ — was that something that Len would even consider? He speed-ate a sandwich of his own to give him a moment to compose himself. “Anyway… all I’m asking is for a couple of days. Will you go home and wait for me? Can I trust you to do that, Joe?”

Joe stared at him. “Can you— Of _course_ you can trust me, Barr.”

“But that’s the thing.” Barry looked at him. “I need to know that you aren’t going to come back here, risk all our lives. I asked you to do that before, and you came anyway, because you thought it was what’s best for me. Now I need you to promise you won’t try to do something else you think is for my own good. So can I trust you?”

There was a pause, and then Joe sighed heavily and dropped his gaze. “Okay, okay. I get it. Yes, Barry, you can trust me. I won’t pull something like this again.”

Barry let out a relieved breath. “Thank you,” he said solemnly, and offered Joe a smile. “Then I’ll let Len know, and you and Harry and Cisco can go home.”

A sudden gust of wind battered the house, the whole building shaking with its force. It shrieked through the eaves, sounding like some kind of malevolent spirit. Barry got to his feet, moving to the window and peering out. 

“That’s not…Mardon, is it?” Joe asked. 

Barry gazed downwards, but he wasn’t at the right angle to see the back garden where the Rogues had been having their snow-fort competition. However, he didn’t see a blizzard or hail in the air. Other than the wind, the weather was clear.

He shrugged and turned back to Joe. “If Mardon’s angry about anything, it could be because he can’t beat Shawna at a snowball fight.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Barry smiled faintly. “You didn’t see them. Anyway, I’ll just—”

He paused, listening again. Over the howl of the wind, he heard a loud, piercing scream, and then voices raised in alarm. “Lenny! Get Flash!” came Lisa’s voice, faintly from downstairs. 

“I’d better go,” Barry said. He grabbed his cowl, and flashed away before Joe could question him. Whatever was going on, it had to be bad if they were calling for him.


	11. If You're Smart You Won't Go In There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's definitely something wrong with Cisco.

Cisco clung to Mick’s shoulders as he was literally _carried_ in from the cold, his face burning more from humiliation than the freezing air, now. Mick lumbered straight into the parlour and plunked himself down on the tile in front of the roaring fire. Only then did he loosen his grip.

Cisco was immediately sweating in the coat he was wearing. He shifted uncomfortably, and unzipped it. Mick’s hands were on his waist, and the big man helped him strip the coat off, tossing it aside onto the sofa. 

It was weird. Though Cisco’s whole body thrummed tight with tension at times, Mick had yet to really push things. His scarred hands didn’t dip below the belt, didn’t slide up under his t-shirt. In a strange way, it almost was like Mick wasn’t paying attention to him at all. His eyes wandered away, fixing on some interesting piece of artwork on the wall or turned to check on the state of the fire. Yet Cisco had the distinct impression that if he tried to just get up and leave Mick’s lap, he wouldn’t be allowed.

But the weirdest part about it wasn’t the fact that Mick wasn’t looking at him or really groping him in a properly traumatizing way. It was the way Cisco’s body was beginning to react to it. To the best he could tell, Mick hadn’t even gotten hard, though it was difficult to say for sure with his body-hiding clothes and jeans. Yet every time Mick’s fingers brushed against him, even through his shirt, it was like the man sent a jolt of electricity through him. 

Maybe it was all the nervousness and tension. Maybe his mental wires were getting all crossed and fucked up and his dick was interpreting terror as arousal. He was sure he couldn’t actually find Mick Rory attractive, even if he did have big strong arms like tree trunks. And his deep voice sent liquid heat right through him. And— No. This rabbit hole just didn’t have a bottom.

His groin was aching and his skin was tingling, and he _definitely did not want to make out with Mick Fucking Rory_ but a part of him kinda really did.

 _I must be a masochist,_ he thought in despair as Mick’s thumbs rubbed gently up along the underside of his ribs. _Or something. There’s definitely something wrong with me._

“Can I ask you something?” Cisco asked suddenly. He was rubbing the skin of his own wrist convulsively, up under the cuff. He couldn’t seem to make himself stop. 

Mick grunted wordlessly, his eyes sliding back to meet Cisco’s again. His fingers stilled. Instantly, Cisco regretted even speaking up. Every way of wording his question just seemed like Mick would make fun of him again, or lie. Or maybe punch him. And also, it had felt nice.

He squirmed, struggling with himself, and finally stuttered through something resembling the beginning of a coherent question. “I ah… remember last night? When I thought you, uh, wanted to do stuff, and you like basically said you’d break me in half—”

“I _actually_ said I’d break you in half,” Mick rumbled with a smirk. “I got a question for ya - why’s it so hard for you to say fucking words? Or the word fucking?”

Cisco reddened even more. This wasn’t helping. “Okay, but, I mean, that’s— Look, do you want to fuck me or not? I just need to know, okay?”

“You offering?” Mick asked, an eyebrow arching.

“…No?” Wow, that had not been nearly as firm as he’d intended. Mick looked at him for a long moment. Cisco struggled to hold his gaze, but found himself staring at Mick’s shoulder after a few seconds, his ears burning.

“What if I did want to fuck you? You gonna freak out and run like a pussy, get your head blown off?”

Cisco swallowed. “No.” This time, he was quite certain of his answer. What he _would_ do, he had no idea, but he knew he wasn’t about to run away.

Mick continued to say nothing. He shifted, and Cisco moved with him, settling into a more comfortable position with Mick’s legs crossed and Cisco sort of sitting sideways in his lap with his head pillowed against Mick’s shoulder. Over the crackle of flames and the continuing whoops and shrieking from outside, Cisco heard a car’s engine and the crunch of snow. The front door opened, and a puff of cold air drove back the brutal warmth of the fire just a little.

Mick grunted softly. “Lisa’s back,” he murmured. “You’re saved, kid.”

Cisco blinked, but turned his head, feeling a smile brighten his features almost reflexively as Lisa swanned into the room, towing a rolling suitcase. She began to unpack it, stowing all the brightly-wrapped packages under the massive Christmas tree that they had all helped erect the day before. Hartley followed, with a far more sour expression on his face. He placed another package under the tree, and then left again. A few moments later, Cisco heard clattering in the kitchen. 

With all the packages, the pile of presents was beginning to spill out from under the branches, and Cisco wondered what all that stuff was. It hadn’t occurred to him that the Rogues would exchange gifts, especially since he was pretty sure they hadn’t last year - they had done an auction, according to Barry. 

The one thing he was pretty sure of - it was probably all stolen merchandise.

To see Lisa properly, he had to shift in Mick’s lap. Mick’s arms slipped around him as he moved, and he wound up lounging back against his chest, with Mick’s arms draped around him. Oh well, it was pretty comfortable, actually. 

“Anything under there for me?” he joked. 

Lisa placed the last present and then straightened and turned towards him with a mock look of surprise on her face. “Of _course_ , dear. You really think we’d leave you out?” 

He started. “What, really?”

She crossed the room and settled onto her knees in front of them, beaming, and pressed a palm to his cheek. “Silly. Not _only_ are there presents under the tree for you, but I packed you a bag. Trust me, I know very well how awful it is not to have fresh clothes.”

“You broke into my apartment, didn’t you?” Cisco asked wryly, ignoring that obvious bit of bait. But honestly, even knowing that she couldn’t stop being a criminal for even a second, he was touched. It was sweet that she had gone out on that trip just to make him more comfortable. 

Lisa pouted dramatically. “How else could I have gotten you your own toothbrush, hmm? Not like you’ve given me a key...yet.” Cisco choked slightly at that thought, and she grinned, dropping her hand away from his cheek. “Good god, you two look like a freakin’ Christmas card. Should I take a picture?”

“Kid’s been missin’ you, Lise,” Mick rumbled.

Cisco went on choking as Lisa leaned in. “That’s so sweet. You’re so sweet.” 

Cisco lifted his arms automatically as she closed the distance and kissed him, his arms encircling her shoulders. She slid right up to Mick, in fact, sandwiching him between two warm bodies, and Cisco gasped with delight, his own body lighting up with a different sort of heat that had nothing to do with the fire. He kissed her hard, their tongues tangling together as his mouth opened to her, and it was _amazing_.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of doors slamming, of voices raised in chatter and friendly argument. 

“I fuckin’ won and you all need to shut the fuck up,” Mark snapped.

“Now _Marcus_ , don’t be a sore _loser_ ,” said James Jesse at the top of his lungs.

“You’re _fucking biased_ , old man, and my name isn’t _Marcus_. You just said they won because your son worked on it.”

“Also yours fell down,” Axel retorted.

“Because _Nimbus_ is _corrosive_ , and he _cheated_.”

“Lies,” Kyle said serenely. “I’m not corrosive.”

“I _saw_ you, you fucking freak!”

“Everyone shut up!” Hartley snapped. “Also, if you’re smart you won’t go in there.”

There was a general silencing. Cisco was currently dying and pretty sure he was in heaven already. The entirety of the Rogues was only inches from walking into the room, but Lisa was nibbling at his neck just above the collar and Mick’s fingers were doing _that thing_ again where he was rubbing gently along his ribs, and he wished he’d maybe push him just a _little_ …

“I, uh… do we have to stop?” Cisco asked breathlessly. Lisa bit down on his throat and a whimper escaped him despite his best efforts.

“What, you want some privacy or something?” Mick rumbled just behind his ear. 

“ _Kinda. Yeah._ ”

Mick’s hand paused, and Cisco grabbed it reflexively before he could pull away. The other man made a soft, surprised noise as Cisco held on, and Lisa drew back an inch or so, cocking her head with curiosity. “Well, do you—” she began, but Cisco never heard her finish that suggestion.

The whole house rattled as if a gust of wind had hit it. Cisco felt a chill - more like a whole-body _rush_ of cold. He was driven back against Mick suddenly, as a spike of _freezing_ struck him, like an icicle driven deep into his chest.

He Vibed…

_Arms wrapped around him and wrenched him upwards towards the ceiling. He heard his body screaming below, saw it shaking in Mick’s embrace as the Rogues rushed into the room and Lisa shouted and clutched at it helplessly._

_The girl clung to him. Tears in her eyes. Her skin was blue like ice, and her hair rippled like a flag in the wind that swirled around them and buoyed them up, spun them about._

_She shouted. “No! You can’t go! Please!”_

_He pushed at her, in a panic. Her fingers sank into his skin. “Get the fuck off me!”_

_“I need you!”_

_“Go away!” He ripped away from her, shoving her aside._

_She was gone, but now he didn’t know what to do. Her touch had anchored him somehow, and now he was in free-fall, spinning, lost and confused. Was he a ghost? How did he get back to his body?_

_Faces surrounded him. Noises. Screaming and shouting. More voices. More people crowding into the room._

_Lightning and frost._

_And darkness._


	12. Next It’ll Be Joe West On The Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco's not the greatest kisser...but that doesn't matter.

Lisa had decided a while back - when she’d kissed Cisco for the very first time over the seat of her motorcycle - that she really liked kissing Cisco Ramon. He was the first man she’d ever kissed who seemed to… _listen_ when she kissed him. She couldn’t quite explain it, even to herself, but it was like he paid attention to what she did, and responded to that. In comparison, every man she’d ever hooked up with before seemed clumsy and rough, selfish and oblivious.

He wasn’t the greatest kisser she’d ever kissed. His lips were soft but a little shy - unpracticed. She’d always thought she wanted a man with some skills under his belt - (under _the_ belt!) - but here he was, fumbling a little, half-panicking and oh-so-eager, and she was utterly _delighted_. 

She could tell that Mick was getting charmed, too. He might put up an oafish exterior, play dumb and pretend like he didn’t care what people thought of him, but that was far from the complete truth. Lisa knew from listening to him and her brother in the occasional poorly-soundproofed safehouse, that Mick had a healthy sex drive and was enthusiastic and dominant in the sack. 

But she also knew, from having known Mick for practically her entire goddamn life, that he was as socially awkward as they came. When it came to expressing interest in someone he actually _liked_ , he’d usually do it in the most direct way possible. Or he wouldn’t do it at all. There was no middle ground when it came to Mick, normally. 

But with Cisco, she could see Mick was struggling. Len had basically ditched the kid with him, and Lisa hadn’t helped much so far, consumed with preparation and execution of the party. Cisco had expressed pretty clearly that he wasn’t interested, yet now he was snuggled into Mick’s lap with remarkable comfort. She had to feel sorry for Mick, honestly. The mixed signals had to be killing him.

Especially right now, as Cisco practically ground his ass back into Mick while Lisa did her best to tutor him in French kissing. He was a quick study. 

Both men were making the most interesting noises. Cisco with his little excited gasps and whimpers. And then there was Mick, who grunted and shifted forward with each movement Cisco made. Lisa was ten seconds away from just hauling them both upstairs to sort them both out before Hartley and the gang had the chance to come into the room and ruin everything.

But then suddenly, Cisco was dying in her arms.

She barely noticed the strange rattling of the house. What she did notice was Cisco going rigid. He threw his head back and screamed, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, as his body temperature dropped by ten degrees in a split second. Mick drew back slightly, uttering an oath, and Cisco began to _seize_. He trembled and twitched, and Lisa had no idea what to do.

“Lenny!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. What Len could do, she had no idea, but it was reflex to her to call for him when she needed help.

People were piling into the room, shouts of confusion and dismay filling the air. Mick jumped to his feet, and Cisco lolled in his arms, going limp as a doll, his extremities still twitching weakly. Lisa held his face, searching for some sign of life. His skin was like _ice_. There was really only one person to call, and it wasn’t her brother. She raised her voice again. “Get the Flash!”

Seconds after she’d called for him, Barry was there. He zipped into the room, effortlessly dodging around the Rogues and stopping next to them. “What’s happened?” he demanded, eyes going wide with horror as he saw Cisco. 

There was a hysterical babbling that wanted to claw its way up her throat, but Lisa had finished with carrying on like a frightened girl. She was a Snart, damnit. She had kept things together when she had a bomb in her neck, and she could keep herself together now.

She turned to Barry, a tremor in her voice the only remaining sign of emotion. “Everything was fine, and then he just screamed and went cold. I think he’s having a seizure.”

Barry bit his lip, his eyes flicking quickly to the Rogues gathered around in various attitudes of curiosity and concern. Cisco wasn’t well-loved in this crowd, but the antipathy was perhaps slightly less than towards the Flash. From what Lisa had heard, Cisco had brought the prisoners food, entertainment. He had been their jailer, but at least he hadn’t ignored them.

“Let’s get him upstairs,” Barry said decisively. “He’ll be fine, he just needs to rest.”

Lisa looked at him, and saw deep terror in his eyes. She understood - he had no idea what was wrong. All he was really trying to do was get him out from under the view of the Rogues.

“Comin’ through. Get outta the way, you maniacs,” Mick snarled, and pushed through the gathered Rogues without any hesitation. Lisa and Barry followed, leaving the others behind. They met Len, who was on his way down the stairs at a dead run. The leader of the Rogues paused at the sight of Cisco, his eyes widening with shock.

“What happened?” he demanded. “You left my side,” he added, for the benefit of those listening, and cuffed Barry on the back of the head.

Barry took that in stride, his face pale under his mask. “He needs to rest, in private,” he said softly.

“Give him a fucking break, Lenny,” Lisa snapped. “His friend is hurt.” Her voice broke on the last word, and her brother looked at her, eyes widening. She glared at him, and he looked away. He covered the movement by taking the lead, striding decisively towards Mick’s room.

“Let’s get him warmed up,” Len said. 

“Shoulda been warm enough by the fire,” Mick pointed out, but he followed as quickly as he could.

They got him through the door and Mick carried Cisco to the bed. Not knowing what else to do, Lisa jumped into the bed with him, drawing the freezing young man against her. There was a pause, and Lisa looked up at the three men standing around the bed, looking at her. “Mick, get over here and help me. Lenny and Barry, make yourselves useful.”

Barry jumped at the sound of his real name and began buzzing around the room, piling blankets on top of them. Mick blinked at her, then climbed into bed on Cisco’s other side. He cursed as he pressed in close.

“Fuckin’ freezing. What the fuck is wrong with him?”

Barry stopped, kneeling on the bed and leaning over Lisa to get a look at his friend. Cisco’s eyes were closed now and he lay still, breathing shallowly, his skin pale and clammy. “I…don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“We may have to take him to a hospital,” Len said. He was leaning against the poster of the bed, arms folded, looking down at the four on the bed. The wind shrieked through the eaves. 

“We should take him to STAR Labs,” Barry corrected, looking up. “Caitlin needs to look at him.”

Len nodded curtly. “No time to waste. I’ll get Detective West and Doctor Wells.” He straightened and turned on his heel to go.

Before he could reach the door, Cisco shifted in Lisa’s arms, and he let out a soft groan. She gasped and held him tighter. “Cisco?” 

Slowly, Cisco’s eyes fluttered open. Lisa was aware that Len had paused and turned to look, but she just stared into Cisco’s face, watching as he opened his eyes. He smiled sleepily up at her, and her heart stopped beating for a moment. “Hey…” he purred in the sweetest, most adorable morning-after way she could imagine.

Then his brows furrowed and he looked around, from Mick to Barry, and then over to Len. “Um…also hey?”

“Hey buddy,” Barry said, his voice breathless with relief. “How’re you feeling?”

“Cold.” Cisco said, and then he stiffened with a sudden realization. “Oh fuck, it hap— I mean, uh… hi guys. Sorry for worrying you,” he stammered, his eyes flicking between the faces of the Rogues. I guess you won’t believe me if I say that was no big deal?”

“Not _really_ ,” Len said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lisa scowled down at Cisco. “You looked like you were _dying_.”

“More like you were already a corpse who just hadn’t stopped twitching,” Mick growled. “You gonna tell us what the fuck is going on or what?”

Cisco squirmed and gave Barry a desperate look, and Lisa felt a flash of anger. She had just _freaked out_ with Lenny-being-kidnapped levels of worry, and now he was trying to wriggle out of telling them why? 

“I think we’ve got no choice but to tell them, Cisco,” Barry said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Cisco sagged. He lifted a hand - the one not trapped under Lisa’s body, and wiped a sheen of cold sweat from his face. Lisa’s mind raced as she watched him struggle. What could possibly be so bad that they couldn’t know about it? If he was sick, they could take that. She couldn’t understand why this was such a big fucking secret.

“I’m a metahuman,” he whispered. “I see…visions.” His eyes flicked up, brows furrowed as he searched the faces of Lisa, Len, and Mick. “Sometimes I see the future. And something here…it’s like someone’s been forcing me to use my powers in a way that it’s not supposed to work.”

“Who’s doing it?” Len asked sharply.

“I don’t know,” Cisco said helplessly. “Some woman I’ve never met. She keeps, like… it’s like she’s pulling my soul out of my body and then talking to me.”

Lisa stared at him. Okay, she could sort of understand why he’d been hesitant to tell them about this. “You see the future?”

“Then why’d you get fucking kidnapped?” Mick asked skeptically. “Why didn’t you see that coming?”

“He doesn’t have control over his powers,” Barry put in quickly, as Cisco appeared to be preparing a cutting remark.

Len returned to the bed, looming over them all with his arms folded and a critical expression on his face. “Is this why you wanted to talk to Barry alone today?”

Cisco averted his gaze. “Yeah. I had a dream last night - a vision, I guess. The woman touched me in the dream, and when I woke up, the place where she touched me was burned.” He touched his cheek and winced. Only now did Lisa notice the little marks. They were quite faded, but she recalled seeing the spots last night, standing out starkly on his face. “I wanted to talk to Barry about it. I… I’m sorry, I guess I wasn’t thinking about how that’d look, but I didn’t know Harry and Joe West were here.”

“Barging into our room in the middle of the night wouldn’t have gone over well, either,” Len pointed out dryly. 

Barry lifted his head and looked at Len. “What do we do, now?”

Len shrugged. “What was the outcome of your chat with Detective West. Is he willing to honour our agreement?”

“Yeah,” Barry said.

“What agreement?” Lisa asked, a split second before Cisco did.

“Joe said if we let him, Harry, and Cisco go, he won’t try to come back and ‘rescue’ me, again,” Barry said awkwardly. 

“Good,” Len said. “Then I think it’s time you head home, Cisco, so you can get Doctor Snow to check you out. If being here is harmful to you, then there’s even less reason for you to stay.”

There was a knock at the door, and Shawna’s voice came issuing through the door. “Hey Mr. Snart? We have another problem. Can you come take a look at something?”

“There’s a bit of a situation, Baez,” Len growled, reaching for the doorknob and opening the door. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Ramon might need a hospital.”

Shawna frowned up at him. “Yeah…that’s part of the problem.”

* * *

Len sighed through his nose and glanced over his shoulder at the collection of worried Rogues - and boyfriend, and kidnappee - on the bed. “Stay here,” he ordered them all, (but mostly Barry), and then followed Shawna into the hall. He locked the door and strode after her as she headed for the stairs.

Things were getting complicated again, and it was only day two. It was _afternoon_ on the second day, and it was Christmas Eve, and all he wanted was to get the extra people out of his holiday, but now apparently they were inclined to start dropping like flies. 

_Next it’ll be Joe West on the floor,_ he thought, and then instantly regretted it. If Joe died on his watch, it would probably be either Mardon or Nimbus’ fault, and Barry would expect him to do something about it, and then Len would probably die heroically. Not the way he wanted to go.

The first thing he noticed was that it seemed darker in the main hallway than it should be. He glanced around, up at the chandelier that dominated the open floorplan, but it was still glowing brightly - a collection of a thousand candles and icy droplets of crystal. No, the reason it seemed dark had to do with the windows. Though the sun was shining brightly, it seemed dimmer than before as it streamed through the big windows and skylights. 

Hartley, Roy, and Nimbus stood at the door. Roy was wrestling with the knob and cursing, while Hartley peered through the window to the left of it, and Nimbus looked on with arms folded.

“What is it, Shawna?” he asked softly. 

“Look,” she said. 

He went to the window and peered out - or tried to. The entire window was covered in a sheen of ice, rendering the view of the grounds ghostly and clouded. He looked at her, a premonition coming to him. “The whole house?”

She nodded. “First floor, anyway.”

“Door’s fucking frozen shut,” Roy growled, giving up and taking a few steps back.

“I could shatter the ice with my gloves,” Hartley offered. “But I’d have to break the glass, first.”

Len clenched his fists in frustration. “I suppose it’s too much to hope it’s just Mark Mardon being an asshole again.”

“Not sure,” Nimbus said softly.

“I don’t think it’s him,” Shawna said. “This only happened since you went upstairs. Mark was with us until then, and nothing seemed wrong.”

Len looked around. He didn’t really think it was Mardon, either, though Nimbus and Roy looked skeptical. But that brought up another question. “So where is he, then?”

“Went upstairs with James and Axel, to see if there are any windows we can open,” Shawna said.

Len froze. No one was guarding the prisoners, and Mark was upstairs. Could he possibly resist the temptation? 

Would he even try?

Even as he thought it, he heard the sound of shattering glass come from upstairs. 

Len grabbed Shawna by the arm. She cried out in surprise and jerked away, but he held on tighter. “Get me up there,” he hissed fiercely. “End of the east wing, last room on the left. Right _now_.”


	13. It’s Christmas Eve and My Brother’s Gonna Get His Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go from bad to worse, with Mark Mardon in the middle of it all - of course.

Joe scarcely had time to register the sound of someone calling for Barry downstairs before his son was gone. He knew Barry didn’t mean to be so abrupt, but sometimes he suspected he didn’t realize how quickly he could react to things, compared to the average person. It could sometimes get annoying, being left playing catch-up while Barry was already out the door.

His immediate impulse was to follow, of course, but the cold circlets of metal still tight around his wrists reminded him that that was an even worse idea than usual. Thankfully, he was pretty good at repressing that impulse by now, though it was never easy to just stay behind while Barry rushed headlong into a situation. He suspected it never would get any easier.

So he only walked into the main room. Doctor Wells was there already, cuffs with their dangling broken chain still hanging on his wrists, just like Joe. He stood by the door, not touching it, but listening closely.

“Any idea what’s wrong?” Joe asked seriously. 

“Not sure,” Wells replied, brows furrowed in concentration. “The screaming’s stopped.” Not a phrase either man enjoyed uttering, nor hearing. 

They fell silent for a few minutes, hearing heavy, rapid footsteps and the sounds of voices. Joe recognized Leonard Snart’s voice. “What happened? You left my side.” Followed by an indistinct reply he didn’t catch.

And then a woman’s voice, raised in anger. “Give him a fucking break, Lenny. His friend is hurt.” Could that be Lisa Snart? Probably. 

Joe would eat his own gun if they weren’t talking about Barry and Cisco. Cisco was hurt, then? 

Wells turned to look at him, and Joe could tell from the deepening furrow between his brows that he was coming to the same conclusion. “Cisco’s hurt,” Joe said, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “ _Damnit_.”

“There’s little we can do,” Wells said reasonably, though his lips pursed with frustration enough that Joe knew he wasn’t as sanguine about it as he sounded. “We go out there, and we’re just going to get ourselves killed. This house is filled with hostile metahumans, and we don’t have a weapon.”

Joe automatically cast about, desperately searching for a way out. There was a rack by the fireplace, with a poker. He hefted it thoughtfully and kept it, liking the weight of it in his hand. But that being said, he knew it was pointless. He couldn’t defeat Kyle Nimbus with a cast iron rod. He could maybe break a window and they could escape, but that wouldn’t protect Cisco or Barry.

He glared at the cold hearth, holding the poker in one hand and giving it an experimental swing. “Snart told me he’d let us go, along with Cisco, if we promised not to come back for Barry,” he said. 

Wells swung around to face him. “Are you going to take that deal?”

He gritted his teeth hard enough that his jaw ached. “I told Barry I would, right before this happened.”

“Detective, if Cisco’s hurt…”

“If they’ve hurt Cisco, then all bets are off.” Joe swung around to face Wells, expecting agreement, but as he caught sight of the frown on Wells’ face he realized that the other man wasn’t aligned with his feelings at all. 

Wells was shaking his head. “No, Detective. No. If Cisco’s hurt, then we need to get him to safety. I don’t underestimate the danger that Barry is in here, but he’s far more capable of taking care of himself in this environment than any of us.” He drew a breath and let it out. “ _Believe me_ , Joe, I know how you feel. But we must prioritize getting Cisco to a safe place before we consider taking any other action.”

He was right, damnit. Joe grimaced and began to pace, the poker clutched in his hand. There were no more shouts or screams, and he tried to tell himself that whatever had happened, it was already over. There was nothing he could do.

But that was the worst part. There was nothing he could do. Barry was mixed up with these criminals and murderers, and for some reason, couldn’t see the path they were dragging him down.

But surely if they had harmed his best friend, he would see it _now_. 

Wells stepped away from the door, giving Joe room to pace as he folded his lanky body down to sit on the sofa. He tapped an impatient rhythm with one hand, brows furrowed in thought. “I had a strange visitor earlier - a Hartley Rathaway. Do you know him?”

Joe paused in his pacing and glanced at Wells. Probably, the man was just trying to distract him from his worries - he was a little grateful for that. “Rathaway, yeah. He used to work at STAR Labs. Now they call him the Pied Piper, I think.”

“He worked at the lab?” Harry blinked and looked up. “On my Earth, he’s inherited a corporate empire.”

Joe winced faintly. “Kid got disinherited, here,” he said. He flopped onto the sofa next to Wells, setting the poker aside. “Something about his father not liking the way he swings.”

“The way he… ah.” Harry’s eyebrows went up. “What a shame.”

Joe grunted. He couldn’t imagine what Hartley’s parents were thinking, cutting him out for a reason like that. He’d had an inkling about Barry, but they’d never really talked about it. Now this thing with Snart confirmed that Barry was bisexual, though the fact that Snart was a man didn’t factor into Joe’s disapproval of the relationship. The fact that Snart was a homicidal maniac was more than reason enough to be against it.

Maybe, when all this was over, he _should_ have a chat with Barry about it. It had never occurred to him until this moment that Barry might worry Joe disapproved, but just in case, he should lay that to rest.

When all this was over. Assuming they all lived through it.

Wells was still looking at him thoughtfully. “Do you know why he left STAR Labs?” he asked.

 _Oh… well shit._ Joe leaned back and looked at Wells. “He was fired, by Eobard Thawne. I heard Hartley blew the whistle when he noticed there was something wrong with the particle accelerator, and Thawne canned him to keep it quiet. He didn’t take it well.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “And because of that, he fell in with these…rogues?”

“Guess so. Kid holds a grudge like nobody’s business…” Joe trailed off and started to his feet as the door swung open. He expected Snart, come to tell him it was time to go, or perhaps Barry.

It was Mark Mardon.

_Oh hell. Speaking of grudges…_

The metahuman strolled into the room and kicked the door shut with one booted foot, his eyes going unerringly to Joe. Joe grabbed for the poker reflexively, and Mardon raised his hands. “Are you kidding me?” he drawled contemptuously, eyes flicking to the poker in Joe’s hand as a ball of ice formed in the air between his palms. “What are you going to do with that, Detective?” The ball spun like a top, first the size of a tennis ball, but quickly doubling in size. The temperature in the room dropped by ten, then twenty degrees and went right on dropping.

Joe held the poker between himself and the dangerous metahuman, aware that it was a pitiful weapon under the circumstances, but it was all he had. “Just get out, Mardon,” he said. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

“You’re the one who’s not supposed to be here,” Mardon said. He took a step towards Joe, who kept his distance. Harry still sat on the sofa, watching the proceedings quietly. _Thanks, Wells,_ Joe thought in frustration as Mardon stalked him across the room. _Glad for your support._

“So what, you’re gonna kill me?” Joe asked, desperately trying to come up with some way to defuse this situation. 

“It’s on the to do list.”

“Snart’s not gonna like it if you do that.” He hated invoking Snart’s name like that was some kind of protective charm, but wasn’t that the whole thing? Wasn’t he the leader here? 

Mark scoffed. “You think I give a _fuck_ what Snart wants? Besides, I think he’d thank me. Don’t know why he let you live in the first place. It’s not like he’s got any love for cops.” He raised his hand, the ball of ice spinning like a top. It broke apart into five pieces, each one picking up speed and gaining in size. Joe’s heart began to pound and he raised his poker like a baseball bat.

One of the balls launched itself like a fastball straight towards Joe’s head. He swung the poker wildly and smashed it out of the air. Harmless chunks of ice pelted him and he readied himself for the next one, wondering how many he could take out before Mardon scored a hit.

At that moment, Harry tackled Mardon. In one fluid movement, while Mardon was distracted by controlling the ice ball, he launched himself over the back of the sofa and slammed into Mardon from the side. The Weather Wizard yelled and crashed to the floor, the ice balls rolling away harmlessly. 

Joe darted forward to help Harry as the two men wrestled on the ground. Mardon clocked Harry in the right cheek before Joe could get there, and Harry sagged. Joe grabbed Mardon’s wrists, trying to restrain him, but then there was a shattering sound and a gust of wind swirled through the room. The wind picked Joe up as if in a giant hand and he was thrown backwards several feet. His head smacked against the wall as he struck it, and he had to grab onto the fireplace mantel to steady himself, or he might have fallen to the floor.

Harry slammed hard against the wall just to the right of the door and then crumpled. A painting fell off its hanger and smashed to the floor with a clatter. 

Mardon was on his feet, his hair whipping around in the wind. In the confined space, Joe would have thought he couldn’t muster that kind of power, but a gust of freezing air was blowing in from outside. Every window had been smashed, and snow whipped into the room, gathering in a small maelstrom of freezing cold air and tiny fragments of glass that swirled around the Weather Wizard.

“Stop this, Mardon,” Joe shouted. His poker was lying on the floor at Mardon’s feet, and might as well have been a million miles away for all the good it would do him now. He groped along the mantel for anything to use as a weapon, and his hand encountered a ceramic vase. He threw it, and Mardon batted it aside without blinking, the wind itself forming a shield. It struck a wall and smashed. More paintings were being ripped off the walls, and the sofa scraped across the floor, pushed aside by the wind.

“I’m done with playing nice,” Mardon growled, advancing on Joe. “It’s Christmas Eve and my brother’s gonna get his present - you sent down to hell.”

Abruptly, there was a poofing sound, and two figures appeared in the room, standing between Mardon and Joe. Shawna took one look at the destruction going on and dove for cover behind the sofa, but Leonard Snart drew his cold gun, settled himself, and fired it straight at Mark Mardon. 

The beam of the cold gun struck Mark’s tornado and it blew apart. Mark stumbled backwards with a yell, and fell onto his back on the floor. In an instant, Snart was there, his gun pressed tight to Mark’s forehead. “ _What was our deal, Mardon_?” he snarled.

“Fuck our deal,” Mark spat. Snart was straddling his chest, and the Weather Wizard’s arms were pinned. He strained and struggled against Snart’s weight, but he was trapped for the moment.

“I’m sick of you fucking around like a selfish prick when we’re all supposed to be having a nice time,” Snart replied. “If you want out, you just gotta say the word, and you’ll be out.” Though the words sounded benign, the way his finger tightened on the trigger of his gun told a completely different story. Mark’s eyes widened. 

“He’s a _fucking pig_ , Snart. You hate cops! Why can’t I ice him if I want? He killed my brother! What would you do if it were Lisa?”

“You _know_ the rules,” Snart replied coldly. “No cops. Not even this one. You want revenge, take it on your own time, not here.” He glanced back. “Baez. Get West out of here. Out of the house. Right now.”

Shawna rose to her feet. “But… Snart, the ice.”

“You can see out. _Go_.”

Joe glanced at her, and saw her looking out the shattered window. “Hey, wait—”

She grabbed his hand, and there was a wrenching sensation. Suddenly they were standing in snow, and there was an ear-splitting _shriek_. The ground shook, and Joe lost his footing, landing on his ass in the snow with Shawna on top of him, their hands still clutched tight together.

“What the hell is that?” he bellowed over the noise.

Shawna shook her head. “No idea!”

He let go of her hand and she scrambled up, shivering in the cold. The trembling in the earth had subsided, but there was another, deeper rumble that went on and on. 

Joe got to his feet. The icy wind knifed through his clothes as if they weren’t even there. He looked around, in search of the noise, and what he saw took his breath away even more effectively than the weather. 

The hedge maze had come to life. Vines crawled across the ground and up the walls of the house, twining around every surface like they were trying to choke the life out of it. A thick coating of ice also covered the first floor, and it crept up the walls even as he watched, sliding up and over the shattered windows of the room where he’d been held prisoner.

Shawna gasped as she looked up at what was happening, then looked around. “I think we have to get out of here. Right now.”

“What about them?” he jabbed a thumb towards the house. “Everyone in there is in danger, too.”

“It’s too late.” She gestured angrily. “I can’t get inside unless I can _see_ inside, and the ice is too thick.” She looked at him urgently. “You have a car, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s parked right outside the gate…” He trailed off, staring in horror. The hedges planted around the grounds were growing thickly and twining together even as he watched. At the bottom of the hill, the front gate itself was being covered in a thick layer of plant life. In that moment, he realized something - they were standing outside in the cold without coats. If they couldn’t get back into the house, and they couldn’t get to his car, they would simply freeze to death right on Snart’s doorstep. She was right. They had no choice. “You’re right, we’ve got to go.”

He reached for her hand at the same moment she reached for him. In another disorienting leap, they were at the bottom of the hill. Leafy branches reached for them like fingers, but they jumped again and were on the outside of the gate, then inside his car. Thankfully, when he’d been searched the night before, no one had bothered to take his car keys. He dug in his pocket for them and started up the car, gunning the engine as the hedge _reached_ for them.

Branches scraped the side of his vehicle as he turned onto the road and sped away.

Shawna twisted her head and looked back as they drove, her lip sneaking between her teeth. “Fuck…that was intense,” she said.

Joe glared at the road grimly, fully aware that he had just turned tail and abandoned Barry, Cisco, and Wells. Cisco might be hurt, might need a doctor, but there hadn’t been any choice. They had been lucky to get out themselves. He grunted wordlessly.

“So…where are we headed?” Shawna asked, a wariness to her tone. 

“STAR Labs,” he said. “We need to regroup.” He glanced at her sidelong. “You want me to stop somewhere, let you out?” She belonged in Iron Heights, but it wasn’t like he could get her there against her will. She could teleport away at any time. 

Besides, he had to give her a little credit for the fact that she’d just saved his bacon.

She looked up at him, thoughtful and clearly surprised at his offer. “No,” she said, after a moment. “My people are in trouble, too. I want to help get them out of it.”

Now that was interesting. He nodded and turned his eyes back towards the road. “All right, then.”

“But if you try to put me back in that hellhole again…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Joe said firmly.


	14. I’ve Got a Bad Feeling About This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark continues to be a bad boy, but what do you expect, really?

Len didn’t dare take his eyes off Mark Mardon for an instant. Though the metahuman’s hands were controlled for the moment, that didn’t necessarily mean that he couldn’t overpower Len with some crazy-ass ability and kill him. Dealing with the metas was always a juggling act, combining shameless ego-stroking, delicate negotiation, and outright reckless disregard for life and limb. 

The popping sound that accompanied the use of Shawna Baez’ power told him that Joe West was safely out of the house, a supposition confirmed by the roar from Mardon. 

“Fuck you, Snart!” Mark was struggling again, leaning up and pressing his forehead recklessly against the buzzing muzzle of the cold gun. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t make any fucking sense!”

“I told you,” Len said. “Do what you want on your own ti—” The whole house shook as if in an earthquake, and Len tumbled forward, nearly dropping his gun as he braced himself. Mark yelled and Len firmed his grip with his thighs, riding it out for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. 

Somehow, Mark didn’t manage to buck him off. When the shaking subsided, he pushed himself up again, ears still ringing from the sound of an unholy shriek that he could only assume had been the plumbing protesting its mistreatment.

An impression of movement at the corner of his eye ratcheted Len’s heartrate up to triple its usual pace. He reared up, swinging his gun around and stuck it in the face of Harrison Wells, who immediately took a step back and raised his hands in alarm. 

“I was just trying to help—”

“I don’t need help. Get down on your knees,” Len ordered. “Hands behind your head.”

Eyes wide, Wells obeyed, dropping to his knees and resting his hands on the back of his neck. Thank god, someone was doing what he was told. Len really didn’t have the mental space to deal with all these different variables at once. 

He nodded curtly. “Good. Now just stay there and be quiet until someone tells you to do otherwise.” 

Then he took a breath, preparing to refocus his attention onto the homicidally dangerous metahuman, but a crackling sound like pond ice breaking turned his head towards the window instead. Ice crawled up the empty space where the glass should be, like fingers reaching and closing the gap. He looked down at Mardon. “Are you doing that?”

“Doing what? I’m not doing shit!” Mark exclaimed. The fight had gone out of him, though he was still red-faced with anger. “Are you gonna let me up, man?” 

Len hesitated, then relented and got to his feet, offering the metahuman his off-hand to help him up without putting his gun away just yet. Mark grabbed his hand and got up, grumbling, but apparently not about to murder them all anymore.

 _Where the hell is Baez?_ Len thought furiously. He had expected her to come back after getting Barry’s father to safety, but there was no sign of her. Then again, she might not have been able to get back inside. That ice was an inch thick and getting thicker.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Mark murmured, walking to the window. The hole in the wall had sealed itself tightly, though it was still frigid in the room. The Weather Wizard ran fingers over the smooth layer of ice. 

“You really didn’t do that?” Len asked with a sigh. It was too much to hope that Mardon was responsible. 

“I said I didn’t, didn’t I?” Mark snapped, turning on him. 

Len raised his hand and gun in surrender. “I was just asking. Let’s go see if we can send the rest of the prisoners on their way and then I’ll pour you a drink, okay?”

Mardon glared at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze and huffed a sigh. “You’re an asshole, Snart. Fine, you can pour me a goddamn drink.”

Nodding in relief, Len slid the gun back into his thigh holster and then turned to Wells, who had lowered his hands but was still watching them warily from his place on his knees. “Come on, Doctor Wells,” Len said, grabbing him by the shoulder and giving a tug. “Time to go home.”

Wells got up without further prompting. “If I may say so, Mr. Snart, your hospitality leaves much to be desired.”

“Well, you did break in to kidnap my pet at gunpoint,” Len retorted with a smirk, and pointedly ignored the scandalized look that broke through Wells’ stoical exterior.

“Your pet?” he echoed.

“The Flash,” Mardon supplied. “Still don’t know how you do it, Snart. How’d you keep him in line from _jail_?”

“You’ll never know,” Len replied serenely. _Try acting like less of an asshole and maybe you’d figure it out for yourself,_ he thought, though the thought came with a qualm. Barry might still be angry with him, and he hadn’t had a chance to smooth things over.

No matter. He’d have all the time in the world once Cisco and Wells were gone. If it wasn’t too late for that, anyway.

When he emerged from the room, he found everyone gathered in the lobby. Cisco was still looking pale, but he was standing under his own power. Lisa had him by the waist, and he had his head resting on her shoulder. Mick had Barry by the back of the collar, but the speedster wasn’t resisting. Len saw with relief that the two good guys were being kept to one side, safely out of the way of what might be building to a fray.

He grabbed Wells by the elbow, just in case, and shoved him bodily into the arms of the only Rogue present that he even vaguely trusted, and who wasn’t taking part in the discussion - which happened to be Hartley Rathaway - and then he waded in.

“Why don’t you take it up with Mardon, then?” Bivolo was saying, eyes flashing red behind his glasses as he squared off with Nimbus. “ _I_ don’t know.”

“That’s right - where _did_ that Marcus get off to, anyway?” James asked around the shaft of a lollipop. “I haven’t seen him since we came inside.” He offered a second lollypop to Mick, who took it and handed it to Cisco. Cisco frowned and handed it back.

“I’m right here,” Mark drawled, standing at Len’s shoulder like a bodyguard - as if they hadn’t just been brawling upstairs a few minutes before. “Who wants me?”

“I do,” Kyle said, turning to face him with an eerily out of place grin. “Why have you trapped us in here, Mardon?”

Len grimaced. Trapped was right. The others hadn’t made any headway with opening the door. If anything, the lobby was even darker than when he went upstairs. In addition to the ice covering the windows, there was now a thick layer of what looked like vines or leaves. He couldn’t see a thing, and that explained why Shawna was nowhere to be seen as well. Without the ability to see inside, she couldn’t return. Hopefully she had gotten herself and West to safety, because there wasn’t much they could do.

“I didn’t _do_ anything,” Mardon snapped.

Len put a quelling hand on his shoulder. “He didn’t do this,” he affirmed. “We’ve already discussed it. There appears to be an unwanted guest at our party, and they are expressing some displeasure.”

“Len…” Barry whispered uncertainly, and Len extended a hand. Mick let him go, and the speedster moved to his side, tucking himself up under Len’s arm. Len knew from Barry’s tone that he hadn’t really been missing him - he’d been worried, warning him against revealing Cisco’s secret. He was almost offended. Did Barry really think he couldn’t keep Cisco’s secret? He’d kept Barry’s, hadn’t he?

Kyle’s fierce grin turned into a grimace. “Then it’s as I suspected. Snart, I’m not interested in participating in another fiasco like last year.”

“What’s that mean?” Bivolo demanded. 

“Indeed,” Len agreed, arching a brow at the bald-headed killer. “Anyway, I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Nimbus. Whatever is going on here, it can’t be the same situation as last year. What are the odds?”

“Don’t—” Cisco said warningly, then cut off when everyone turned to look at him. “Don’t say that,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. “You’re tempting fate. It’s like in Star Wars when they said “I’ve got a bad feeling about this”.”

Len cocked his head. Kid had a good point. “My bad.” He turned back to Kyle expectantly. “Well?”

Nimbus hesitated, then inclined his head, turned, and walked out of the room.

There was a moment of silence, then Len shrugged and glanced around at the others. Apparently that was that. “It seems like whoever’s doing this is mad about anyone leaving. Baez took one of our prisoners out of the house, as per a deal I struck with him, and it seems to have reacted to that. Lucky for me, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I plan to enjoy my Christmas whether this thing likes it or not. We’ll track it down and get rid of it, if we have to. Either way, I’m getting drunk tonight. Who’s with me?”

There was a general murmur of enthusiasm for that sentiment. Mark clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m in, Snart,” he said, and smirked. 

“Good,” Len said, as the group began to break up. “Lisa, you got any of that famous egg nog of yours made up?” 

“It’s chilling, Lenny,” she said, though with less cheerfulness than he had hoped. “I’ll pass it around.” 

She loosened her grip on Cisco, but Len held up a hand to stop her before she could rush off. “Hang on, sis,” he said, his voice lowering. The party had mostly broken up, though Len noticed that Hartley hadn’t moved. He had Wells by the wrist, but was staring fixedly at Len. Len gave him a nod to tell him not to go anywhere, then turned his back on him and huddled up with Lisa and Cisco. Barry was, of course, still at his side.

“How’re you holding up, Ramon?” he murmured.

“I’m okay,” Cisco said, eyes widening slightly with surprise. “Honestly, I feel totally fine. I mean, considering my soul was recently ripped out of my body.”

“Good, because there’s no getting you to a doctor now,” Len said.

Cisco nodded, straightening up. “I don’t need a doctor. I know what to expect, now. The next time she decides to attack, I’ll fend her off.”

“Len, what happened with Joe?” Barry asked worriedly. 

Len drew a breath. “Mardon made a play for him, and I had Shawna take him out. I intended her to take the rest of them, but…” He glanced at the nearest window, through which only the faintest light could be seen. “I assume she and Detective West left after they realized they couldn’t get back inside. Last I saw, he was fine,” he added quickly as Barry tensed with worry. “Mardon didn’t get a chance to hurt him.”

“Weather Wizard. That jerk,” Cisco growled. “Why do you even hang out with that guy?”

“ _Shockingly_ , he’s handy to have around when he’s not distracted,” Len said. Cisco groaned at the pun. Len leaned away, including Hartley and Wells in the discussion. “Anyway, I’m afraid you and Doctor Wells will be staying for now. Rathaway, will you take charge of him? I can’t just keep him locked him in a room where he might get into more trouble. He might as well join the party, since he’s not going anywhere.”

Hartley gave him a look like he had just asked him to stand up in his underwear and make a speech, and then smiled like Christmas had come early. “As you wish, Snart.” 

“Uh,” Barry murmured. He and Cisco exchanged an alarmed look. “Len, maybe you should think about someone else?”

“Who?” Len asked, arching a brow at him. 

“Don’t worry, Flash,” Hartley said, and favoured them with a wicked grin Len would have been proud to wear himself. “I’ve got him.” Wells looked distinctly less pleased with the situation.

Len had the distinct impression he was missing something. But there really was no choice. Either Hartley had him, or he was going to have to pull someone off of Cisco duty to babysit the older scientist, and he doubted Lisa was interested in that. Nor did he think the man would fare well with Mick. He didn’t trust any of the others, so Hartley it was.

“Great,” he said, and grabbed Barry around the waist. He leaned in close and nibbled at Barry’s earlobe. Barry shivered and squirmed. “Now, I’m going to have a stiff drink.”


	15. I Don't Know, If I Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know, if I know, either way. You know?
> 
> This chapter is a little NSFW. Mick is being inappropriate. It will not be the last time.

The afternoon wore into evening without a repeat of any of the excitement from earlier, and Cisco was definitely grateful for that. It had been an exciting and dangerous enough day already. Even now, he felt trembly and a little cold, as he snuggled into Mick’s lap and toyed with Lisa’s hair while she read a trashy-looking romance novel with a centaur on the cover.

Snart sat on one of the sofas, with Barry in what was apparently his usual spot - straddling the Rogue leader’s lap and looking like some kind of devoted trophy wife. Perhaps that was exactly what he was meant to be. Either way, Snart spent the remainder of the day getting royally drunk with Mark Mardon, while the two chatted about heists they had pulled - or would pull in the future. 

Though from Cisco’s perspective Barry seemed uncharacteristically quiet throughout the evening, everything seemed fine in that corner of the room, until Mark decided to feel up Barry’s ass. Barry yelped, and Snart flipped out and stuck his gun in Mardon’s face. Mardon wound up being banished to the other side of the room, with Snart giving him the - pun _definitely_ intended - cold shoulder after that.

And then there was Hartley Rathaway and Harrison Wells. 

Cisco couldn’t tell how Harry was holding up. The guy was so difficult to read at the best of times and almost nothing seemed to faze him. Hartley looked like he’d been given all the candy in the evil candy store, and apparently decided to begin his campaign to lord it over Wells by making him play chess with him. 

Typical. God, he was such a fucking nerd.

The two of them played chess for _hours_ before Hartley apparently got bored of that, and dragged Harry off to a corner, where he proceeded to use him as a chair, draping himself casually over the Earth-2 scientist like the guy was some kind of bony chaise lounge. 

Cisco was just glad that back when Hartley and Eowells were fucking, he was completely oblivious to it, because he didn’t know if he could watch the two of them much longer before being physically ill. Especially since he knew Harry probably had no idea why Hartley was acting this way, and he wasn’t really sure Hartley was getting what he wanted out of the situation, either. 

In fact, Hartley seemed to get more and more irritable throughout the evening, smiling less and snapping the one time Roy Bivolo suggested that they join the card game in progress between Roy and the Tricksters. 

Shortly after that, Hartley hauled Harry out of the room by the hand, and they didn’t come back. Cisco was vaguely concerned by that, but it was just so comfortable with Mick’s arms warm around him, and with Lisa’s head in his lap, and reading her book over her shoulder, that he couldn’t bring himself to suggest that they check on Harry. Anyway, Hartley wouldn’t do anything _really_ messed up.

Right?

 _Probably_ not, anyway.

Lisa dropped her book onto her face and yawned widely. The movement startled Cisco, who opened his eyes - realizing only then that he had dozed off. “Mmm,” Lisa said, closing her book and dropping it to the floor. “It’s late.”

“Better get to bed,” Cisco said, combing his fingers lightly through her hair one last time. “Or Santa might not come.” He looked up and around, hoping that maybe they were the last ones to go to bed, but Snart was still on the sofa with Barry tucked in his lap. The two of them were chatting softly, but when Cisco looked up, Snart’s eyes found them and locked on, then flicked briefly to Lisa, and then back to Cisco. 

“You headed to bed, sis?” Snart asked.

“I am,” she said and got up. She paused and turned, and leaned in. Cisco met the kiss warmly, enjoying the soft, liquid heat of it. Then she pulled back and tapped him on the nose with one long fingernail. “Be good, and be safe,” she said seriously.

“I will,” Cisco said. 

Snart watched her go, then gave Barry a pat on the back. “Ready to go up?”

Barry lifted his head and looked at Cisco. “You doing okay, Cisco?” he asked, brows pinched with worry behind his mask.

To be honest, Cisco couldn’t have felt better. He grinned and waved lazily at his best friend. “Yeah, bro. Go on.” He watched as they ambled away, arm in arm. 

And then he was alone with Mick Rory. 

He twisted around and looked up at the bigger man. “Guess that’s our cue,” he said. 

Mick cocked his head and nodded towards the fireplace, which had been allowed to burn low, until only a few glowing embers remained. “You think Santa’s really coming?”

Cisco’s jaw dropped. Did Heat Wave still believe in Santa Claus? “I, uh…”

Mick eyed him for a long moment as he flailed, then turned his head and guffawed. “Me neither. Come on, pretty. It’s bed time.” As he spoke, he got up, hauling Cisco up to his feet as if he weighed nothing. Cisco blushed and sputtered irritably as they walked up to bed, Mick’s massive hand clamped tight around his upper arm. Cisco wasn’t sure if he meant to steady him or keep him from running away.

Thankfully, Cisco had no desire to run away.

Not yet.

They headed into the room, and Mick kicked the door closed. He finally let go of Cisco and gave him a general shove in the direction of the bathroom. “Take a piss and brush your teeth,” he commanded. “And change for bed.”

Startled at being ordered around so directly by Mick, Cisco leaped to obey. He opened up the suitcase that had been left for him, one he recognized from his own closet. Inside, he found a variety of clothes and other sundries packed haphazardly, but neatly enough. He located a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt that he liked to sleep in, and his toothbrush, and headed into the bathroom.

He locked the door out of habit. Even living alone, he still retained some of the habits from a childhood growing up with Dante, who had a bad habit of barging in wherever without regard for a guy’s privacy. 

He brushed his teeth and stripped down, then looked longingly at the shower. His hair would be wet, though, and he was still feeling a little cold, so he dressed instead, promising himself that he’d take a good, long shower in the morning. It felt nice to change into fresh, clean clothes, and he figured Mick would just have to deal if there was a little BO. It didn’t seem to have bothered anyone so far, so he was probably good.

Feeling pretty good and ready for sleep, he opened the bathroom door and side-stepped Mick, who was on his way in. Or so it seemed. The other man grabbed him by the wrist and walked towards the bed, apparently uncaring whether Cisco was following under his own power or not. 

Cisco was getting somewhat used to this kind of treatment, though, so he suppressed a yelp and followed. But when Mick grabbed up the chain that was attached to the headboard and brought it close, he balked. 

“H-hey, now that’s not necessary,” he stammered. 

“You broke out last night,” Mick said, glaring at him. “You just locked me outta the bathroom on purpose. I know you’re a goddamn genius, but you think I’m stupid?”

“No! No, I don’t think you’re stupid,” Cisco said hastily. _That_ sounded like a classic question that might precede a beating, if this were a gangster movie. Which thankfully, it wasn’t. “But I explained why I left, and I’m _sorry_ , and who doesn’t lock the door in the bathroom? I thought we were friends now.”

Mick latched the chain onto the D-ring on Cisco’s left wrist and then tested the give. “We are friends now,” Mick said, giving him a wolfish grin. “I made the chain longer this time.”

Then he walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Cisco gazed mournfully after him, then sighed and inspected the chain. It was true that it was a lot longer. Right after the whole Thing that had happened, his arm had been held at an uncomfortable angle while he laid in bed. This time as he climbed under the covers, he had a fairly free range of motion. It took him a few moments of shifting around to get into a position where the chain wasn’t draped over him or trapped under his body, but once he got settled he could almost forget that his arm was chained to the headboard.

Almost.

The toilet flushed and Mick emerged. Cisco raised his head to look at him, and saw the other man glance over and then away, as Mick shut off the bathroom light and padded around the room, extinguishing the lights. He stripped as he walked, dropping clothes haphazardly onto the floor until he was completely nude.

Last night, Cisco hadn’t really wanted to look at the naked Heat Wave, but twenty-four hours could apparently make a big difference. He found his gaze caught by the sight, and he felt his ears burning, but he still couldn’t look away. Mick was tall, broad, and powerful-looking in every dimension. His burns weren’t just on his arms. Scars spattered across his back and torso, looking as if the skin had melted like wax. 

Mick turned towards him just as he turned off the last night, and Cisco blinked in the sudden darkness, cheeks flaring with heat again, wondering if the other man had seen him looking. Wondering if that would actually be a bad thing.

“You’ve been different tonight,” Mick commented. The bed dipped as he climbed onto it. 

Cisco laid down and pulled his blankets up to his chin, his heart beating hard. “Different, how?”

“Like you don’t mind so much.” Mick settled down next to him, his body radiating heat. Cisco wondered if he was going to cuddle up close again like the night before. His cock twitched in his boxers at the thought.

“I guess. I guess I don’t,” He admitted softly. “You’re different, too. I mean, different from how you were before, when you and Snart kidnapped me and Dante.”

Mick was silent for a moment. “I’m not different from then. I’m just not acting the same.”

“…Huh?”

“The _situation_ was different, then,” Mick clarified. “You were a prisoner, and we needed you to do what you were told, but you were trying to escape. Now your friend is Snart’s boytoy, and Lisa thinks you’re the bee’s knees. Lots of things are different, but I’m still the same guy.”

“Oh, right. I guess that makes sense,” Cisco said. He hesitated, then threw caution to the wind and scooted closer, tucking his cheek against Mick’s chest. The bigger man stiffened slightly, but settled arms around him.

“What’re you doing?” Mick asked after a few moments.

Cisco was somewhat at a loss for how to answer the question. He wasn’t even entirely certain himself. He swallowed and then looked up. “Um… I guess, I’m. Cuddling. You?”

Mick eyed him, his disbelieving expression visible in the moonlight filtering through the curtains. “Why?”

Cisco cast about for a few moments before he found an answer. “I want to?” He paused for a beat. “But uh, I don’t really - I mean, we can’t really do anything else, because, I like Lisa. You know. But if that wasn’t a thing…well, I don’t really know what I’d do then.”

Mick blinked at him, then caught him by the back of his head and pushed him back down to his chest. “You don’t know, or you _do_ know?”

“I… I don’t know,” Cisco said. “I mean. I don’t know, if I know, either way. You know?”

“Fuck. You’re weird as hell, pretty. Why don’t you ever just say what you mean?”

Cisco laughed ruefully. “I thought I was.”

There was silence for a few minutes. Cisco was lulled towards sleep by the slow rise and fall of Mick’s chest, and the warmth of his body. Mick’s hands traced soft lines down his back, and slipped along a slice of bare flesh between where his shirt lay and the waistband of his boxer shorts. The erection he had began to ease, though each time Mick’s hand moved, he felt himself tighten once again, just a little.

“So what you’re saying is, if Lisa’s okay with it, you might let me fuck you,” Mick said suddenly, his voice a bass rumble in the night air.

“Huh?” Cisco started awake, catching up to what Mick said belatedly. “Um, yeah.”

“Got it.”

Cisco closed his eyes again. Mick breathed slow and steady. One of Mick’s hands slipped off of his back, the other resting at the base of his spine, his thumb rubbing slowly and rhythmically up and down over his bare skin. 

The missing arm began to move, slowly at first, and then faster, in a rhythmic motion. For a while, Cisco didn’t register what was happening. The bed rocked slightly with the movement, which disturbed his doze, until his brain slowly began to wake up again and connections actually started firing in his brain.

Mick was masturbating. Like. Two inches from his hip.

Cisco bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to breathe slowly, trying to stay relaxed. Maybe Mick thought he was asleep. Was that better? No, that wasn’t really better. Was this bad? Should he be angry? He wasn’t sure.

Somehow, despite his mortification, Cisco was hard as a _rock_.

Mick’s hand sped up, and his breathing stuttered. His hips shifted and his body stiffened. With a soft grunt, Mick shuddered, then relaxed again, and Cisco felt some warm sticky drops slide down Mick’s stomach to soak into the fabric of his t-shirt.


	16. What's That Noise?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Possibly things wouldn't be so difficult for the Rogues if they were emotionally mature and talked about their problems openly and honestly.
> 
> ....nah.

Harry sat opposite the young man who had apparently taken charge of him for the foreseeable future, gazing at him across the checkered field of a chess board. It was certainly more pleasurable to sit here, rather than sitting on a bed in handcuffs, but he was far from sanguine. 

He could only hope that being placed under the protection of Hartley Rathaway was a _good_ development, because his wrist metahuman-detector was vibrating frantically. Based on the dynamics he observed between the different metahumans in the room, half of them were no less crazy nor evil than any of Zoom’s minions.

He had beaten Hartley twice so far at chess. The young man didn’t seem surprised by this, but as they settled into the third game, the furrow between Hartley’s brows deepened and he leaned closer, his determination growing. He had already proved himself to be a good player, with a quick and strategic mind, and both victories had been relatively narrow. 

Under normal circumstances, Harry might have truly enjoyed this contest, but he was far too conscious of his own vulnerability to truly settle into the complex ebb and flow, the intellectual challenge of the contest.

Harry also suspected that there was some kind of particular significance to the game for Hartley that Harry was unaware of.

Hartley beat him on the third game, and that seemed almost to anger him even more. “Don’t let me win,” he growled, as he reset the pawns.

“Perish the thought,” Harry retorted, but was dismayed to receive only a glare from the young man in response. He sighed.

Hartley moved his first pawn, and they settled into the fourth game.

“So… I understand you used to work for STAR Labs,” Harry said, sliding the conversational gambit cautiously into the air between them, not unlike the manner in which he slid his bishop across the board to threaten Hartley’s queen.

Hartley moved a pawn, protecting the queen from the bishop and simultaneously threatening Harry’s castle. “I did,” he said in a clipped tone. “Who told you that - the Flash?”

“Detective West,” Harry clarified mildly. “In my version of Earth, you inherited your family’s empire after a tragic car accident five years ago that claimed the life of your father. By all accounts, you’re a brilliant businessman.” He moved his castle, bracketing the queen from two directions, now.

Hartley tensed, and shot a penetrating look at him. “Cisco said something about that, too. What do you mean about your ‘version’ of Earth?”

Harry folded his hands together. “Last year, several rifts were opened between this world, and others. Parallel universes, where things are different by varying margins. I traveled here by accident. In my world, the same metahuman explosion happened, but things are different. The Flash is a different person under the mask, for example.”

Hartley frowned and moved a knight, coming out of nowhere and taking Harry’s bishop. Harry took the knight with his castle, and the two settled into a flurry of moves, trading back and forth, as each of them attempted to breach the other’s defenses. 

Finally, Hartley looked up. “Did the particle accelerator explosion happen in your Earth as well?”

Harry nodded. Hartley’s fingers curled into angry fists and he glared down at the game. Harry beat him, four moves later.

“I’m tired of this game,” Hartley growled, and caught Harry by the wrist - thankfully not the one that was singing its metahuman song. Harry yelped as he was hauled up out of his chair, nearly upsetting the mostly-empty board. Hartley dragged him over to a sofa in a corner of the room, removed from the drinking and card games going on. 

In the intensity of the games, Harry had almost forgotten they weren’t alone. The festivities were growing louder. Liquor flowed liberally, and Christmas music filled the air. Barry Allen was cuddling up to Leonard Snart, and _that_ was something he’d never thought he’d see the mayor do, and Cisco seemed content, sandwiched between the mayor’s sister and the big one that Harry didn’t know. 

“Sit down,” Hartley ordered him, and Harry sat on the sofa, wondering with a strange feeling of trepidation what Hartley had in store for him now. The next thing he knew, the young man had sat down practically in his lap. Harry tensed as Hartley settled back against him, apparently having decided to use him in a similar fashion to the way Cisco and Barry were being used - though altered somewhat for their respective heights.

The young man’s back settled against Harry’s chest, who sighed, cautiously draping his arms around Hartley, which was apparently deemed acceptable. “Is this what you want?” he asked softly.

“Shut up,” Hartley shot back. 

Harry swallowed. He remained silent for a few minutes, before trying again. “Can I ask you something, Mr. Rathaway?”

Hartley tensed. “Yes, you may.” At least he didn’t tell him to shut up again.

“I understand that you… I’m _guessing_ that you had a special relationship with my predecessor,” Harry said, as delicately as he could muster. 

There was a pause. “Was that a question, Doctor Wells?” Hartley said sarcastically. 

Harry felt himself flush with embarrassment. “Ah, I suppose it wasn’t. So let me rephrase - _did_ you have a sexual relationship with the previous Harrison Wells?”

“What difference does it make?” Hartley’s voice was quiet, that thread of anger still running through it, but a hopeless quality as well. 

Harry wasn’t certain how to answer that. “I’m not offended, if that’s what you mean,” he said cautiously. “Detective West led me to believe that the other Wells…betrayed you. It must be difficult to see me.”

“You’re no better,” Hartley snarled, softly so the words wouldn’t carry. “I warned Wells about the possibility of an explosion, and he fired me. He was covering it up. He _wanted_ the explosion to happen.”

“I didn’t,” Harry said. 

Hartley twisted around to look at him. “You expect me to believe that in your world it _was_ just an accident?”

Harry met his gaze. “Yes, Mr. Rathaway. A terrible accident, and one that perhaps you could have prevented, but I didn’t have the benefit of your presence.”

Hartley’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. For a moment, Harry thought perhaps he had gotten through, that Hartley might see him in a new light.

Then a man Harry didn’t know, wearing a pair of glasses with coloured lenses, wandered up, and Hartley quickly turned around to face him. The newcomer looked them over with a wry crook of his lips. “Hey Hart, you want to join us? We’re gonna play strip poker. Your new toy can come along, too.”

Several people were gathering in the centre of the room, breaking out a deck of cards and arguing with the older fellow - one James Jesse, aka the Trickster, whom Harry was unfortunately familiar with even from his own Earth - about whether or not to use a deck that he had touched, or a different one. 

“Fuck off, Roy,” Hartley growled. “I’m not in a social mood.”

The other man reared back as if slapped, and shrugged. “Fine, twink. Hope you enjoy your evening of getting fucked by him, if that’s more your speed.” He gestured at Harry and turned around, ambling off with a slightly more stiff posture.

Harry winced. “You might not want to antagonize—”

“I don’t _care_ what you think,” Hartley snapped in an undertone. 

Harry opened his mouth, thinking of reasoning with him, then held his tongue. He remained silent for a few minutes, as the card game began and Hartley slowly relaxed against him. The younger man shifted in his lap, nestling himself comfortably against him. It might have been enjoyable, if Harry was into that kind of thing, but it just felt awkward. Like two puzzle pieces that didn’t really fit, but which Hartley was attempting to jam together by force.

Suddenly, Hartley spoke up again. “All right, I can’t stand it anymore. What _is_ that noise?”

There was silence for a moment - if a boisterous party room filled with Christmas song and punctuated by laughter could possibly be called silent, that is. Clearly Hartley was talking to Harry, since there was no one else close enough to hear, but Harry had no idea what he meant.

“What noise?” he asked finally.

Hartley turned a furious expression on him, and jumped to his feet. “Come with me,” he hissed, and grabbed Harry by the wrist once more. Harry got up obediently and followed as the young man hauled him bodily towards the lobby, and they left the party behind. 

Harry followed along as Hartley led him upstairs and along a corridor he hadn’t seen before. “Where are we going?” he asked mildly, but Hartley just stopped in front of one of the doors and produced a key. He opened the door, revealing a suite not unlike the first one that Harry had been incarcerated in, but without a gaping hole in the wall. 

Hartley locked the door behind them, then pushed him towards the wall. “Assume the position,” he growled.

“What?” Harry caught himself with one hand on the wall, nonplussed and looking back towards Hartley. “What are you talking—”

“Shut up! Shut up! Be quiet! Spread your arms and legs, I’m going to search you.”

 _Oh. That’s what he meant._ Harry sighed and pressed his palms to the wall, moving his feet to shoulder width apart. “This is not necessary.”

“Say another word and I’ll hurt you,” Hartley snapped.

Frowning, Harry fell silent. 

He expected that Hartley would pat him down, but that didn’t happen, at least not right away. Hartley stood behind him, very still, and apparently listening. 

Harry found himself growing increasingly tense as the seconds ticked by without any movement from the younger man. When Hartley abruptly touched Harry’s shoulder, he jumped in surprise. His heart raced for a few beats, a surge of adrenaline pounding through him without anywhere to go, while Hartley’s deft fingers slid down his arm to his wrist.

“What is this thing?” Hartley asked, pushing Harry’s sleeve up to reveal the wrist-watch-like device on his wrist. “That’s not a watch. Why’s it vibrating?”

“You could hear that?” Harry asked, startled and momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to be silent. 

But Hartley didn’t renew his threat. “I can hear well,” Hartley said. “Answer the question.”

Harry hesitated. “Ah…it’s a device from my Earth, which detects the presence of metahumans. I have it on vibrate mode.”

Hartley paused, then snorted with something approaching laughter. “Well, you might as well take it off. I can tell you nearly everyone here is a metahuman.”

“Yes,” Harry said thoughtfully. He turned his head to look at Hartley. “Including you.”

Hartley scowled. “Right.”

Harry switched off the device. Hartley was right. There was no need to keep it on, and frankly it was getting irritating - not only to himself, but to Hartley as well, apparently. The last thing he needed was one more thing he was doing that annoyed Hartley. “Is that why you hate my doppleganger so much?” he asked softly. “Because he made you into a metahuman?”

Hartley rolled his eyes. “Let me count the ways.” He stepped back, and turned away. “I’m going to bed,” he announced, and strode towards the four-poster dominating one part of the room. He began grabbing pillows and blankets off of the bed and throwing them onto the floor. “You can make yourself comfortable there, Doctor Wells. If you give me trouble, I’ll chain you up. You won’t give me trouble, right?”

Harry paused, then walked over and began to arrange the blankets and pillows into a pallet on the floor. “No, Mr. Rathaway. I won’t give you any trouble.”

* * *

Shawna dozed against the passenger window, lulled into sleepiness by the dull monotony of the silent drive along a virtually featureless landscape, but the shift in momentum as the car began to slow brought her to wakefulness. She opened her eyes and looked around with confusion as Joe West pulled the steering wheel to the right and came to a stop on the shoulder of the lonely country road. 

She peered out the window at the dark sky and what little of the world could be seen in the beam of the headlights. The lights of Central City were still far too distant, still little more than a glow on the horizon. There wasn’t a single streetlight on this godforsaken road. There was also no visible reason why he had pulled over.

“What are you doing?” Shawna demanded, turning to him in her seat. West’s face looked like a rough wood carving in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, grave and emotionless. “Why did we stop?”

Joe turned to her and tapped the gas gauge. “Out of gas. I guess I miscalculated. I knew we were far out, but I had no idea there weren’t any gas stations on this road.”

He dug in his pocket for his cellphone and dialed a number. Shawna waited, but after a few moments Joe frowned and looked at the screen of his phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not getting through,” he growled. “This was happening at the house, too. All I get is static.” 

“Must be something wrong with your phone,” Shawna said, and pulled out her own. She dialed the number for a cab company, but all she got for her trouble were a couple of clicks and static before the line went dead completely. 

They looked at each other, at a loss. Shawna wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Neither of them were wearing coats. Though the car was nice and warm so long as the engine was running, that wasn’t going to last. In fact, even now Joe twisted the key and the motor went silent.

“Better conserve what we’ve got left,” he said softly. “Someone’ll surely come along the road eventually. We’ll be able to flag them down, get a ride into town.”

Shawna’s lips twisted wryly and she hunkered down in her seat. She’d done her share of hitchhiking, and she knew that it was easier said than done. Even for a woman, few people would stop. She didn’t look like a lost, blonde co-ed, for one thing.

“Yeah,” she said, because there wasn’t much point in contradicting him. Anyway, she didn’t plan on freezing to death on this road. Sooner or later, someone _would_ come by, and either she’d flag them down, or she’d use her powers to make them pull over. It’d be fine.

* * *

Christmas wasn’t shaping up to be the enjoyable, low key, relaxing holiday that Barry had secretly been hoping for from the moment he woke up in the van and realized that it was the Rogues who’d kidnapped him and not some evil pack of villains.

Er, not some evil _er_ pack of villains, anyway.

All he’d wanted to do for the past six months was exactly what he was doing - sitting in a comfortable place on Christmas Eve, cuddling with his boyfriend, enjoying a glass of egg nog and listening to Christmas carols. But tonight, as he did exactly that, he couldn’t help but feel a thread of tension running through him like a live wire, no matter how much he tried to enjoy it. 

Cisco was under siege by some invisible metahuman they didn’t understand. Hartley was engaged in some kind of twisted battle of wills with Harry, and Barry had no idea how far that was going to go. Shawna had taken Joe - hopefully to safety, but Barry honestly didn’t know that for sure. Even cuddling with Len was vaguely tainted, after what he’d tried to pull back in the library. 

And worst of all, they were completely cut off. Not only was the house coated in a thick layer of ice, but cellphone calls were still not going through. Len had tried to raise Shawna, but all they’d gotten was static again, like when Barry had tried to call STAR Labs the day before.

He tried to just put it out of his mind and enjoy the moment. Everything wasn’t horrible, after all! In fact, Cisco seemed blissfully happy, despite the incident earlier that day, and there were games being played, and laughter being shared. And Len did love him. He had to believe that.

Even though he still refused to say it out loud.

That last thought sank into Barry’s bones like tar into sand, weighing him down. He was so preoccupied with brooding over it, and struggling to pretend he _wasn’t_ brooding, that he scarcely noticed everyone peeling off and heading to bed. The room just gradually became less bright and cheerful, the darkness and silence creeping in slowly as the fire burned low and the people vanished in ones and twos.

“Hey,” Len murmured, brushing a hand down Barry’s back. “You with me?”

“Huh?” Barry jerked and lifted his head up, showing Len a smile that felt false. “Everything’s great.”

Len arched a brow suspiciously. “Glad to hear it. Shall we head to bed?”

Barry’s stomach flipped over, but he nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed, and got to his feet. Len caught his wrist and led him away, up the stairs and through the double doors into their suite. The older man was wobbling a little, his movements precise in a way Barry now knew meant that he was a bit too drunk, and trying to hide it.

As the doors closed behind them, Len wrapped both arms around him and liquor-soaked breath washed into Barry’s face as he tilted his head for a kiss. He wrinkled his nose and ducked out of the embrace, realizing only when he got to the other side of the room that he’d used his powers without meaning to.

Len stiffened and turned around to face him, eyes narrowed. “What the hell, Barry?”

“Sorry,” Barry stammered, wrapping his arms around himself. 

Len didn’t move. He watched Barry for a long moment, eyes penetrating right down to Barry’s soul, but he didn’t take a single step away from the door. “You’re angry at me.”

Barry swallowed, shaking his head. Was he? He couldn’t really put his finger on _how_ he felt. “I’m not angry,” he said, but even to his own ears it was unconvincing. 

Len stared at him for another minute, then turned and walked into the bathroom and shut the door. 

Barry stood, lost and alone, and _stunned_. Len had just…walked out on him. He hadn’t even asked him _why_ he was upset, and had made no effort to try to reassure him. He’d just left.

Not knowing what else to do, Barry changed into his pyjamas. The soft, warm fleece felt good against his skin, though the collar around his neck chafed. He stuck a finger between the metal collar and his skin, rubbing gently.

He climbed into bed and curled up, eyes pricking. None of this was at all what he’d hoped for. Now Len was mad at him, apparently, and maybe he was regretting having brought Barry along at all. 

The door to the bathroom opened and Len emerged. He was carrying his clothes, neatly folded, and made no effort to cover his nudity. He paused in the doorway and observed Barry in the bed for a moment. Barry looked back at him, fighting a ridiculous urge to hide his head under the covers. Len’s expression was inscrutable, rendered even more opaque by the bright lights in the bathroom behind him, throwing his face into shadow.

Len shut off the lights, put his clothes away and then climbed into bed next to Barry. He lay on his back, breathing slowly and steadily, and Barry felt the oppressive weight of the silence settle over them like a blanket.

“Um,” Barry said tentatively. “Are you mad at me?”

“What? No.” Len sounded so genuinely startled that Barry was instantly relieved. “Why would you think that?”

Barry shifted uncomfortably. “You left,” he said awkwardly. “You’ve been giving me the silent treatment ever since?”

“Giving you the silent treatment…for the past five minutes?” Len asked wryly. “Barry, I was just giving you _space_.”

“Oh.” Barry frowned, rubbing his forehead. Uncertainly, he shifted forward until they were touching, and reached out, resting a hand on Len’s chest. He felt his breathing hitch and then settle out again, and wondered if Len was as frightened as he was. “It’s just…” Barry groped for words for a moment. “You know, in my family, we try to talk about our problems. Sometimes it doesn’t always work, but when you just left, I thought you didn’t care.”

Len huffed. “In my family, we _don’t_ talk about our problems.”

“I noticed,” Barry said. Despite himself, he was beginning to smile. He sobered. “Len…it really bothered me earlier when you started…interrogating me.”

Len was silent for a moment. “Yes, Barry. I know. But I _did_ apologize. What else can I do?”

Barry frowned, stumped. He _had_ said he was sorry. But then, he hadn’t really felt like Len understood what he’d done wrong. It had felt like a platitude. “I don’t know,” he admitted eventually. 

He scooted forward, and wrapped his arm more firmly around Len, resting his head against his shoulder. Len tensed for a moment, then relaxed slowly. A hand came to rest on Barry’s back and rubbed gently. 

“I love you, Len,” Barry said softly.

Len’s breath stuttered, and then started again. “That’s good,” he whispered, his arm tightening around Barry. 

Barry closed his eyes and waited, but whatever he was waiting for, it didn’t come before he fell asleep.


	17. Wake up, Pretty. It's Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas morning! I wonder if Santa came!

Mick shook Cisco awake at what felt like the crack of dawn. “Wake up, pretty,” he growled into his ear. “It’s Christmas.”

Cisco was so warm and comfortable, and had an equally warm and comfortable Mick still wrapped around him, so getting up wasn’t really his first priority. Cisco groaned and stretched, realizing that he had slept so deeply that he had barely moved and every muscle was now stiff. He raised his arms above his head and pointed his toes, working out the kinks in his back. Mick rumbled appreciatively and ran a proprietary hand down his side. 

He squirmed, reddening. “I-I’m gonna go take a leak,” he stammered, and leaped out of bed, hoping to hide the morning wood. He moved quick enough, he thought, to keep the bulge in his pyjamas from being obvious, but not quickly enough to get out of the way of a smack Mick applied to his ass. 

“Go on,” Mick said, grinning as Cisco yelped and scurried to the bathroom. “But don’t take too long. I smell bacon.”

At least Mick shared Cisco’s love of bacon. See? They had all kinds of things in common. Wanting to have sex with Mick wasn’t totally crazy. Really.

Cisco showered, then brushed his hair and dressed while a still completely naked Mick ambled around him, pissing with the bathroom door open and displaying no apparent expectation of privacy. Soon, though, they were both dressed and headed downstairs. Mick had put on a very red Christmas sweater that had a fire pattern on it, which seemed like at once an odd choice, and a completely natural one. 

Mick walked beside him, a hand resting on the back of Cisco’s neck as they went down the stairs. It wasn’t a… _comfortable_ position for that hand, but Cisco was starting to get used to this kind of thing.

Which probably should bother him a lot more than it did.

They didn’t see a soul on the way down, but that was quickly explained when they entered the kitchen. It was a madhouse. 

Everyone was in there. Lisa was at the epicentre of the chaos, also wearing a Christmas sweater, and barking orders. All around her, people jumped to obey, dishing up plates of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and toast. Even Barry was buzzing around the room at speed, handing out cups of coffee to grateful Rogues. 

“Oh man,” Cisco groaned, and then raised his voice. “Hey Flash, get me one of those, yeah? Put a shot of redbull in it if you’ve got it.”

“A man after my own heart,” James Jesse purred. He was placing bacon smiles on the plates. Cisco tried not to shiver at the idea that he and the Trickster had something in common. 

“Coming right up, Cisco!” Barry shouted. A second later, he stopped right in front of Cisco, a mug of coffee in each hand. Mick’s was about twice the size of Cisco’s, and shaped like a gorilla’s head. Now that was just discrimination - just because Mick was huge didn’t mean he deserved more coffee than Cisco!

But he took the cup offered to him and took a sip, tasting the heavenly buzz of the energy drink on top of the coffee’s caffeine burst. “Thanks, buddy,” he said, then stared. “What are you wearing?” 

Barry had on his cowl, of course, but that wasn’t what had gotten his attention. He _also_ had on a garish red Christmas sweater, with speeding reindeer on it, and Cisco had never seen it before. Noticing this also had him looking anew at Mick’s fashion choice, which now took on new significance. Even moreso as he looked around to see that everyone but him and Harry were wearing similar sweaters. Even the Tricksters had on identical red sweaters with fireworks picked out in white stitching, and ‘Happy Holidays’ emblazoned across them. 

Barry beamed and tugged on the hem. “What? It’s a sweater.” Then he zoomed away, stopping at Leonard Snart’s elbow. Snart was also wearing a blue sweater with snowflakes, somehow just as ridiculous as all the others, yet at the same time somewhat more tasteful. Cisco almost felt jealous at his sweaterless status.

He set aside his questions about the sweaters and started towards Lisa, intending to grab himself a plate of food, but Mick’s hand seized the back of his collar and tugged upwards. He yelped, wobbling on his toes and not _quite_ getting choked to death, as Mick shouted over the hubbub.

“Hey Lisa!”

“Yes, Mick dear?” she called back, craning her neck to see them over the heads of several Rogues.

“He said I could fuck him if you said it was okay,” Mick hollered. “Is it okay?” All activity came to a screeching halt. Cisco attempted to commit suicide by sheer force of his humiliation.

Lisa cocked her head, and looked a question at Cisco. Cisco might have nodded. He wasn’t sure. There was a rushing in his ears, and he wondered if he was about to black out.

Lisa nodded, and smiled impishly. “Yes, you jerk. It’s okay by me.”

“Great,” Mick said cheerfully, and let Cisco drop. Mick had to grab Cisco around the waist an instant later, or he would have probably wound up on the floor. As it was, some coffee sloshed in its cup, burning his fingers.

He straightened quickly, though, and broke away from Mick. “I. I’m getting some breakfast,” he said, ears still burning. He couldn’t decide if he was more angry, or embarrassed, but either way he didn’t wait before striding away to where the plates were all lined up along the counter. He grabbed a plate and retreated out of the kitchen, finding himself in a formal dining room with one of those absurdly long tables and more than a dozen high-backed chairs.

He plunked himself down in one of the chairs and began to eat, stabbing his food aggressively with his fork and leaving behind a carnage of yolk spattered across the plate like a yellow chainsaw massacre. By the time he’d finished eating, he was feeling marginally better.

Axel walked in just as he was finishing up, and leaned on the back of the chair next to him, looking at him narrowly from under the fall of his greasy bangs. Cisco’s heart suddenly began to speed up as he realized that for the first time since arriving in this place, he was completely alone without someone (vaguely) trustworthy in close proximity. He jumped to his feet, grabbing his plate. “I ah, was just—”

“You’re wanted in the den,” Axel sneered. “What’s wrong, Ramon? You worried I’m gonna do something to you?”

“Y— I mean, no, of course not. Haha, why would I be worried about that?” Cisco stammered. He dodged past Trickster Junior, headed for the kitchen, and Axel slapped him on the back as he went by. The guy wasn’t exactly strong, but it still made him stumble a bit. 

“You should be,” Axel advised him, strolling away. “Most of the people here hate you and the Flash.”

Cisco glanced back at him, brow furrowed. “But you don’t?”

“Oh, I do. I hope you choke on Rory’s cock. He’ll probably love that, anyway.”

“…Right…”

Cheeks burning, Cisco escaped to the kitchen. Barry whipped past him as he entered, snagging the dirty dishes out of his hand. Lisa was leaning against the counter, supervising as Barry and Len washed dishes. 

“Everything okay, Cisco dear?” Lisa asked. Though her tone was casual, he felt the weight of her gaze, and the burn in his cheeks deepened.

“Fine,” he said, looking at the floor.

“Don’t let Mick get to you,” Len advised him laconically, his hands plunged deep in hot soapy water. “He’s just trying to get your goat.”

“Well, it worked,” Cisco said, and even he could hear a sulky, annoyed tone in his voice. He decided to go with it. “He didn’t have to do _that_.”

Barry was drying and putting away dishes at top speed. He flashed across the room and put a hand on Cisco’s shoulder, his eyes filled with true concern. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Give Mick Rory a speed nutpunch?” Cisco suggested, then waved him off. “No, it’s fine. I’ll… I’ve just gotta get over it. I mean, what’s a little abject humiliation between friends, right?”

“Don’t forget,” Len tossed over his shoulder. “You and Mick actually _aren’t_ friends.”

Lisa nodded, folding her arms and pursing her lips. “True.”

Cisco wondered when he was going to get to be alone with _Lisa_. That seemed like it held a lot more potential for fun and a lot less potential for embarrassment. But right now, in front of her brother, was not the time to ask.

“I’d…better get going,” he said. “Bivolo said I was wanted in the den.”

“We all are,” Barry said, and flashed a grin before zooming back over to conquer the remaining pile of wet dishes. “It’s time to open presents.”

Well, that sounded pretty good, even if Cisco didn’t expect to be getting anything this year. At least, not until he got home.

“Stick around,” Lisa said, and beckoned to him. “They can’t start without us, anyway.”

He shrugged and walked over to her, and she slipped an arm around his waist. He leaned against her comfortably, ignoring the sour looks that Len shot in their direction, as the crime boss and Barry finished up the dishes. And overall, by the time they all headed into the next room where the tree stood, he felt a great deal better.

The Rogues spent the next two hours opening presents and haggling.

Cisco got two gifts, one from Lisa, and one from Barry. Barry got him a new mug, which was sweet of him. But the gift from Lisa was the [greatest Christmas sweater ever](http://www.popsci.com/sites/popsci.com/files/styles/large_1x_/public/images/2016/12/rocket.jpg?itok=7C7VBjGm). Who knew there were science-themed Christmas sweaters? Not Cisco, and he was always on the lookout for sweet merch that was on message.

He put it on instantly and cuddled with her for the rest of the morning, feeling much less like he didn’t belong. Now only Harry was sweater-less, and Cisco figured he probably didn’t care. He and Hartley sat apart from the others, though as the present-opening heated up, Hartley all but abandoned his charge, taking part in the free-for-all with as much enthusiasm as anyone else, while Harry remained behind, watching everything with a piercing gaze. 

While Cisco snuggled with Lisa, Mick sat nearby, drinking and occasionally arguing with people. Not that he was being especially grumpy - this was apparently just how the Rogues dealt with present opening at Christmas. 

From the moment they started tearing off the wrapping paper from the first gift, the bargaining began. Kyle ripped into the first box, and unearthed a Ouija board, which Roy apparently coveted. Raider immediately opened one of his own gifts - a set of ruby cufflinks - and offered it to Kyle, who tossed the board game in Roy’s direction and took the cufflinks instead. The Tricksters then got all offended that Kyle didn’t want the gift, and Axel began extolling the virtues of said game at top volume. Apparently they had figured the Mist could troll people by pretending to be a ghost.

And so it went on, like that. Some of the presents were well-received, others were traded, and all of it happened with a great deal of arguing at top volume. The only exception was Barry’s gifts. While it was a surprise to everyone that Barry had bought presents for every one of the Rogues, Cisco knew Barry well enough not to be surprised in the least that the gifts themselves were well-chosen and as personal as possible, all things considered. He had even gotten James Jesse a book that appeared to be about bomb making. It turned out to be a joke book, but that just made it even more of a hit.

The presents intended for Shawna were set aside in a pile, to be opened at some other time.

Other than Barry’s gifts, most of what was handed out seemed more like trolling than thoughtful - Cisco felt that the criminals enjoyed the bartering afterwards a hell of a lot more than the actual receiving of gifts.

Thankfully, they completed the entire production without it actually coming to blows. In fact, other than the spectacle Mick had made of Cisco earlier, the entire morning went off without a hitch.

At least, until the Christmas tree exploded.

The last of the presents had been opened and the commerce was beginning to wind down. People were starting to clear away the garbage and talk about lunch, when an ominous rumbling sound overwhelmed the spirited conversation. Everyone went quiet in ones and twos, looking around as the sound first increased, and then the room began to shake.

“Cisco?” Barry called out worriedly. “Are you okay?”

Cisco felt the temperature in the room drop dramatically, and he braced himself, but no freezing fingers grabbed at him. Nothing otherworldly pricked at his senses. He shook his head. “I’m fine, buddy. I don’t know—”

A blood-curdling scream had everyone clapping at their ears. Hartley dropped like a stone, shrieking in pain, and the Christmas tree shook violently like in a windstorm. Small objects began flying around the room, pelting the Rogues, sending all of them diving behind furniture and covering their heads. Cisco wound up behind the sofa, with Mick’s hand shoving his head down and Lisa next to him, her eyes wide with worry.

Then every glass ornament on the tree shattered at once. Glass fragments flew in all directions, and several of the Rogues yelped in pain. 

Finally, everything went still.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” yelled Axel into the deafening silence. No one had an answer. People slowly began to pick themselves up off the floor.

“Mr. Snart,” said Harry calmly. “Permission to take Mr. Rathaway to his room to recover.”

Cisco disentangled himself from Mick’s embrace and poked his head cautiously up over the edge of the sofa. Wells was kneeling by the tree, supporting Hartley. Pied Piper was sitting up, but his eyes were closed and he looked pale and pained. Blood oozed sluggishly from his right ear.

Len got to his feet, brushing bits of glass from his shirt. “Permission granted,” he growled, looking around at the carnage. “The rest of you, get this cleaned up, and you—” He pointed at Cisco. “Think of something.”

“Oh sure,” Cisco blurted out, rolling his eyes. “I’ll just get right on that.”

Suddenly, Kyle Nimbus was in his face. Cisco had thought he was across the room, but then he was _right there_ , teeth bared and a faint miasma of green smoke still curling around his head. “You had _better_. Or I’m out of here.”

Mick snarled and grabbed Cisco by the collar, yanking him back. In an instant, Cisco found himself behind Heat Wave, with Lisa’s arm around his shoulders, as both Rogues shielded him from the Mist.

“He’ll fix it,” Mick snapped. “He’s smart! Now get goin’. There’s cleaning to be done.”

Kyle sneered and turned away. The house shook one more time, ominously, and then fell quiescent once more.


	18. They Didn’t Find A Farmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shawna and Joe are cold, and Hartley can't hear.

Shawna was running out of comfortable ways to try to keep warm in the car. Since there were zero actual ways to _get_ warm, it hadn’t taken long. It didn’t seem to matter how she curled up on the seat, hands jammed between her legs or into her armpits and her head tucked down - she still shivered.

She and Joe West had been waiting by the side of this lonely road for hours as a blizzard closed in around them and howled unrelentingly around the car. She had no idea how long anymore. The night seemed to stretch on forever, yet each time Joe turned on the engine to warm up, the clock indicated far less time had passed than she thought. After a while, she’d stopped looking when he did it, not really wanting to know.

The phones still wouldn’t work, and now their batteries had quit as well. And the cold seemed to settle into her bones.

“Baez,” Joe hissed, pushing up in his seat and leaning over to her. She grunted softly, but that apparently wasn’t good enough. He shook her shoulder. “Baez.”

She looked up, shrugging him off irritably. “What?”

Joe’s face was grave, tinged with a grey cast in the vague light of the moon. “I think we need to go.”

“Go?” That made no sense. “Go where?”

“I don’t know,” Joe grimaced in frustration. “But we can’t just stay here. There’s got to be a farmhouse around here. Could be we’re no more than a mile from a house where we can warm up and call for help.”

“Right, because some old farmer can’t just wait to help out two black people who’ve come wandering up onto their land in the middle of the night,” Shawna said sarcastically, but she unfolded herself and rubbed at her legs, trying to wake herself up for the walk. He was right. They couldn’t stay here.

“Lucky you can teleport,” Joe said wryly. “Let’s assume they’re gonna be helpful until we see a shotgun come out, all right?”

“You don’t have to worry about me hurting anyone, okay?” she snapped, reaching for the door handle.

“Hey.” Joe’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she turned back to see his serious, but not unkind expression. “I wasn’t saying that.”

Her body was flushed with a rising heat of anger, but it settled at the look on his face. She felt her defensiveness drain away at the concern in his eyes, and she let out a breath. “Sorry,” she said, and offered him a weak smile.

He smiled back, and then they both reached for the doors.

The wind knifed right through her instantly, so cold and harsh that it took her breath away. She hugged herself tightly, snow stinging her eyes, momentarily disoriented. Then she felt a warm arm wrap around her shoulders, and Joe’s voice in her ear. “Come on, Baez. We gotta keep moving.”

They started off into the darkness, trudging along the verge, and quickly leaving the meager shelter of the car behind them.

* * *

Hartley wasn’t unconscious exactly, but all he could really think about for a while was how much his head hurt. He could scarcely make out the discussion around him, but he did feel hands grip him and help him up. Strong support guided him up the stairs, and he soon felt blankets settle over him and cool fingers at his forehead. 

“Hartley. Can you hear me? What are you experiencing?”

The familiar voice was like a faint echo, overwhelmed by the screaming in his right ear that went on and on. Deafening. It wasn’t the shriek of wifi or the warble of radio. For some reason, he couldn’t hear that. It was more like the static of an old television tuned to a weak signal, with a horror film going on behind the snow.

He winced and raised his hand to his ear. His fingers came away tacky with blood.

Echo it might be, but that voice was enough to rouse him, to try to obey. “My hearing aid was blown out,” he gasped, and closed his fingers around the tiny device. He barely heard Wells’ grunt of surprise as he pulled it slowly from his ear, the long wire coming free with a sickening slither. He whimpered as the sound redoubled in power, and the blood-slicked device slipped from his fingers.

“Shit—!”

A hand pressed him back down to the bed, and Wells’ face pressed close. Lips moved against his cheek, and he felt the words as much as he heard them. “Stay still, Hartley. I’ll fix it.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir,” he gasped, and curled up into a ball, wrapping his arms around his head to do his pathetic best to block out the noise.

* * *

“Yes, sir.” 

Harry almost didn’t catch the words, whimpered through scarcely parted lips, and then Rathaway was curling into the foetal position, his arms wrapped around his head to block out a noise that Harry couldn’t hear. 

He let out a breath and examined the device, wiping away the blood on his shirt. The ear piece was tiny, and he was impressed by the quality of the work, but without any equipment or tools, he quickly realized that he was limited in what he could do.

Rathaway lay on the bed, breathing fast and ragged, lending urgency to Harry’s work. Harry turned and strode out of the room, heading downstairs.

The Rogues and kidnapped members of Team Flash were moving around the den, cleaning up shattered glass and righting furniture. Harry stepped into the room, scanning the chaos for the person he was looking for. “Cisco!”

Cisco’s head popped out from behind the tree. He had a dustpan in his hand. “Here! Harry? Where’s Hartley?”

Suddenly, a hand clamped down on Harry’s forearm and he turned his head to look directly into Mark Mardon’s face. Of course. “Well, well, a wayward sheep. Rathaway couldn’t handle you - like I’m surprised.”

Harry grimaced and turned away from Mardon. “Mr. Ramon, I need your assistance, please. Do you have a microtool kit with you?” He held up the device.

Cisco hissed and then darted towards him. He plucked it out of Harry’s fingers and turned it over. “Hartley’s ear thingy…damn. He must be in agony.” He looked up, eyebrows drawn together with distress. “I don’t have any tools with me, though.”

Snart strode towards them. “Mardon, back off. Make yourself useful cleaning up.” He glared at the Weather Wizard until the metahuman released Harry’s arm and wandered off with a growl. Then he looked at the device. “What do you need?”

Harry saw with interest that Snart either knew exactly what it was, or recognized how important it was that it be fixed even if he had no clue. “Mr. Rathaway said it was ‘blown out’. It might just need to be reset. But without microtools, I can’t access the inside and see what I’m dealing with.”

Lisa sauntered over. “Okay, I’ll be the girl stereotype, since I’m the only one left. Here.” She unpinned a gold bell-shaped brooch from her sweater and bent the pin back, then offered it to Harry. “Will this work?”

He took the brooch and looked it over. “Yes, it just might.” He looked at Snart. “Might I borrow Mr. Ramon, and attend to Mr. Rathaway, or is your ‘friend’ going to take charge of me?”

Snart snorted and turned away with a shake of his head. “Lisa, go with them.”

“ _Sure_ , Lenny,” she said. “Come on, boys,” she added in a purr, putting one hand on Harry’s shoulder, and the other on Cisco’s. Harry allowed her to lead them both away, up to Hartley’s room.

Hartley was where Harry had left him, still curled into a ball. Cisco pursed his lips, and then jumped into the fray, attempting to use the crude tool to open the casing of the device, while Harry looked on. Lisa watched from near the door, arms folded and a look of concern on her face.

“Tell me everything you know about Rathaway’s condition,” Harry said as Cisco cursed and struggled with turning the tiny screw with the pin.

“Don’t worry about it, Harry,” Cisco said, sparing him a glance that shocked him with its coldness. “I can take care of this.”

Harry was taken aback. “Have I done something wrong?”

Cisco levered the casing open and peered closely at the innards of the device. “No, you haven’t. But I know you, and I also don’t think Hartley really wants you around. So just chill, okay?” He flashes a smile up at Harry that did little to soften the comments. 

Harry pursed his lips and looked over at the stricken young man. “I’ve gotten quite mixed messages, actually. But if you think you can _handle_ it, Cisco…” He deliberately injected just the right amount of doubt into his tone, knowing it would anger Cisco and push him to excel. 

Cisco snorted irritably, and tinkered with the device. Harry considered giving in to the overpowering temptation to lean over Cisco’s shoulder and back-seat repair the device. He knew that would only annoy Cisco more, but the young man did seem to work harder when Harry was urging him on. 

Before he could decide, Lisa levered herself up and sauntered over to peer over Cisco’s shoulder. Cisco didn’t seem annoyed by her presence, though she didn’t comment, only observing with curiosity.

Now that Lisa Snart was in the spot Harry might normally occupy, he truly felt superfluous. He moved over to Hartley, realizing belatedly that he was annoyed by Cisco’s comment that Hartley didn’t want him around. Though he knew the young man had a complicated history with his double, it didn’t make sense that Hartley would deliberately take charge of him, spend time alone with him, if he really didn’t want Harry near him.

He looked down at Hartley, pondering. The young man winced and shifted, but now that Harry was close enough, he realized that Hartley’s eyes were open and he was watching Cisco like a hawk, as if afraid the other man was going to damage his ear prosthesis. As Harry approached, Hartley’s eyes suddenly darted to him.

“We’re working on it, Hartley,” Harry said. He settled next to the young man, unsure of how he could help - probably, there was nothing he could do. But Hartley’s strange behaviour gnawed at him like a dog on a bone. Calling him ‘sir’ at the oddest times, yet enforcing an unreasonable domination on him as well. Hartley had all but admitted that he and the false Harrison Wells had been together in some kind of relationship, but Hartley seemed so angry at the other man, and hadn’t really explained why.

Maybe Cisco was right. Maybe Hartley only wanted Harry nearby so he could eventually give in to his earlier threat to hurt him.

He almost withdrew, leaving Hartley be, but Hartley grabbed his hand before he could get up. The younger man glared in Cisco’s general direction, as if he were unaware of the gesture, but he held on tight. Harry allowed it, squeezing back and waiting for Cisco to finish his work.

* * *

They didn’t find a farmer, helpful or otherwise.

Joe’s hands and feet went numb far too quickly, but he was more worried about Shawna. She was a slip of a thing, and huddled into his bulk as they walked. As he looked up and down the road, squeezing his eyes nearly shut against the stinging snowflakes, he saw only a high hedge on either side of the road that seemed to stretch on endlessly. All he could do was keep walking and hope there would be something no more than a mile or two along.

The first mile passed without a break in the hedge, and then another. He had no idea how long they walked, as Shawna shivered and shuddered under his arm.

Finally, she stumbled. For a moment, he thought he might have to carry her, but she recovered and stubbornly soldiered on with a determination he had to admire.

“We never should’ve left the house,” she gasped, her teeth chattering. 

He grunted. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “At least we’d be warm now. Too bad for me Mardon might have killed me.”

The attempt at humour fell flat, or perhaps Shawna just didn’t realize he was joking. Joe wasn’t actually sure whether he was joking or not. 

“We’re both gonna die out here if we don’t find somewhere warm,” she murmured, almost too quietly for him to catch.

“We won’t die,” he said with a firmness he didn’t feel. “We just gotta keep moving.”

And then he saw it. Up ahead, a shadow in the hedge that might have been a gap. He hurried across the road, supporting Shawna with his arm around her waist. It turned out to be an old rickety gate standing open, and a tiny cabin set back just a few feet, surrounded by dark trees. 

Perhaps it had once been a hunting cabin, and the land had been developed around it. Maybe it was a farmhouse from a farm that had failed and had never been upgraded or enlarged. Frankly, he didn’t care what sort of place it was. It had a door and windows and four walls and a roof, and it had to be warmer than being outside. 

He hammered on the door, but there was no response and it wasn’t getting any warmer. He looked down at Shawna. “Can you get us inside?” 

Shawna looked up tiredly, wrapped her arms around him, and peeked through the dark window set into the door. With a jolt, they were in.

The interior of the small building seemed scarcely warmer than the outside. The two of them clung to one another, standing in the middle of a living area with a single sagging couch and a couple of wooden chairs just a few steps up from being used for kindling. Joe identified a woodburning stove that looked like it was intended to warm the place, too.

“Hello?” Joe called, and they stood still for a long moment, but he didn’t hear anything or anyone stir.

“Guess no one’s home,” Shawna said, and he felt her knees wobble. 

“Sit,” he said firmly, guiding her to the sofa. “I’ll find some blankets.”

He thought it was a testament to how cold she was that she didn’t argue. He sat her down, and she curled up on the sofa, listing sideways like a badly-balanced sailboat. 

He wasted no time, exploring the little hut and finding a bathroom, a tiny kitchen, and a bedroom. They were all frigid. He dragged all of the blankets off the bed, and dumped them on top of Shawna. A further search rustled up an old matchbox with a few matches rattling around inside. Quickly, Joe built a fire from the pile of old wood stacked near the stove. That done, he snagged a corner of one blanket from Shawna and collapsed onto the threadbare rug on the floor, falling asleep almost instantly.


	19. You Saying If I Go, There’s No Coming Back?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rogues are getting antsy, cooped up in the house. This is...not good.

Len was worried. Everyone was getting antsy, and something was going to have to give soon. The ghost - and this year, he actually was starting to wonder if it really might _be_ a ghost - refused to shut up and let them enjoy their holiday in peace. And Len could feel the frustration, the energy level, rising with every odd incident and new injury. 

Though everyone was busy right now cleaning up the shattered tree ornaments, it was with a snappishness that Len expected to build to blows at any moment. It wasn’t just Mardon who was chafing and acting out. Nimbus in particular growled even more than usual at everyone who came too close, and that was definitely not good.

And the Superfriends just kept making the whole thing worse. First there had been Cisco’s idiotic not!escape attempt. Then just now Harry had come downstairs to get him, like the heroes had carte blanche to just wander around unsupervised. 

When Len had first arrived, and realized that Barry was here as well, he had really been looking forward to a relaxing, celebratory week of sex and cuddling. Though last year he had spent most of the week at war with the rest of the Rogues to keep Barry safe, this year he had had some expectation that he could really relax, allow Barry a bit more latitude and actually _enjoy_ himself. 

But Barry’s friends didn’t seem capable of _getting the message_ that they had to behave themselves. The more they acted like this, the more that hope that Barry could be allowed some leeway slipped away, along with Len’s expectation of actually getting a stress-free holiday.

“Why are we fucking around like this?” Nimbus hissed suddenly, dumping a dustpan full of colourful glass shards into the trash with unnecessary violence. 

“What are you talking about, Kyle?” Roy asked. He was half under the tree, sweeping up, his skinny ass in the air.

“I’m _talking_ about this freak who’s messing with us, and we’re doing _fuck all_.”

Len took a look around, and then snagged Barry around the waist as the younger man passed by. “Hey, stick by me,” he murmured into Barry’s ear.

Barry looked at him, brows drawn together. “Len?” 

“Calm _down_ , Kyle my boy,” said Jesse. He wasn’t doing a thing to help, leaning against the fireplace mantel and drinking a glass of ‘egg nog’ that looked to be about eighty-percent rum. “I’m sure our illustrious leader has a plan to save _Christmas_ , doesn’t he?”

Everyone looked at Len. 

Len experienced a strong desire to put a knife through James’ eye. “I do have a plan,” he said coldly. “We’re going to _chill_. Finish cleaning up and have Christmas dinner without acting like a bunch of animals. No one’s gotten hurt, so why are you all acting like a bunch of scared children?”

“Technically, Hartley got hurt,” Roy pointed out, emerging from under the tree.

“I’m not scared,” Kyle growled.

Len felt Barry’s hand tighten on his arm, but he ignored it and took a step towards the Mist. “Prove it.”

Kyle glared at him. “You want me to prove it? How?”

Len put a hand on the Mist’s shoulder and guided him towards the door. “As it happens, there’s some potatoes in the kitchen that need peeling. We’ve got dinner to start, so let’s get to it.” Barry followed behind him, saying nothing.

“Snart,” Kyle growled warningly. “I’m not your errand boy.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” Len said serenely. His heart was racing, but it did seem like the tension in the room was easing a smidge. “I need you to take charge of dinner while I organize the auction for tomorrow. Can you do that?”

Kyle teeth ground, but Len felt the tension in his shoulder ease. “Fine. But I’m not much of a cook.”

“It’ll be all right,” Len reassured him. “I’ll send the others in to help in a minute, after I check on my sister.”

They entered the kitchen. “Snart, if this doesn’t get better, I _am_ leaving,” Kyle said, pulling away from him and moving to the pantry. “A sheet of ice can’t stop me from getting out.”

“Hey, if you’re out, you’re out,” Len said, folding his arms and leaning against the counter to watch the former hit man with narrowed eyes. “But I don’t take back the cowards who split when the going gets tough, so think long and hard is all I ask.”

Nimbus lifted a bag of potatoes out of the pantry and shot him a look as he carried it towards the sink. “Yeah, I’ve heard your reputation. They say if someone wants out of your crew, they go out in a body bag.” He paused, showing teeth in a grin that would make lesser men shit their pants. “But you can’t kill _me_ , Snart.”

Len shrugged. He could feel Barry’s gaze on him. “That was in a different time. This isn’t a threat of violence, just laying out the terms of your involvement in the Rogues.”

“You saying if I go, there’s no coming back?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Kyle fell silent, pulling potatoes out of the bag and washing them. “I’m not a traitor. I’m loyal.”

“Then _act_ like it.”

There was a long silence, then Kyle finally nodded jerkily. 

Len felt a knot of tension in his stomach ease. The last thing he needed was to piss off the spirit even more by another Rogue leaving the house. They needed to lower the energy levels, not cause their attacker to bring the whole house down around their ears in a fit of rage. 

Besides, he really hated cowardice, and people who cut and ran when they were needed.

He straightened and walked over to the Mist, and leaned close. He didn’t know if their attacker could hear even a whisper, but he could at least try. “Listen, after you’re done here, if you need something to keep you occupied, why don’t you take a thorough look around? See if there are any places we haven’t checked.”

Kyle glanced at him sidelong. “Places no one else can get to, you mean?”

Len smiled. “Exactly. Like places only a ‘ghost’ could go. Or mist.”

Kyle showed his teeth in a grin and nodded. “You got it.”

“Good.” Len straightened and turned away. “I’ll send a couple guys to help you once the den is cleaned up. Come on, Flash.”

“Thanks, Snart,” Nimbus said, and they left.

Barry let out a soft breath as soon as they exited the kitchen. “Wow, that was good.”

Len paused to catch his breath, though he struggled to hide it. A confrontation with someone as nutty as the Mist was never fun. He glanced at Barry. “What?”

Barry grinned. “You and Kyle Nimbus. I thought he was gonna go off, but you got him straightened out, and peeling _potatoes_.”

Len preened inwardly and slipped his arm around Barry’s waist, tugging him in close. “You just gotta know how to handle these guys. They usually just want something constructive to do.”

“I have to admit,” Barry said, tucking himself against Len’s body and leaning his head against his shoulder. “When you decided to let those guys out, I wasn’t just worried for Central City. I was pretty sure if you really did try to work with them, you’d end up dead.”

“You’re not the only one who underestimates me,” Len purred in his best supervillain tone. 

Barry punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Stop it, you’re ridiculous,” he said, laughing, and they headed back into the den to finish cleaning up.

* * *

Though Hartley was fully conscious and his eyes were open for most of the repair work, he was scarcely aware of what was going on. All he truly registered was Harry’s warm presence at his side, awkwardly rubbing his back, and a gut-wrenching frustration and terror that the overwhelming noise would never end.

 

Then the device was pressed against his ear, and he felt deft, cool fingers carefully positioning it. After one false start, and some heated exhortation from Cisco, Harry managed to insert it properly.

And…sweet, blessed _relief_.

It was only afterwards that he learned that Cisco had fixed the device with the back end of a brooch, and decided he might have to reevaluate Cisco’s competence in an upward direction. 

He gasped for a few long minutes, scarcely able to believe that the horrendous noise was gone - no, not gone. His ears were still ringing, but he could still faintly hear a voice that had no apparent source. He couldn’t make out a word, but its tone rose and fell with undulations of distress and despair.

He ignored it for now, in favour of getting his bearings and sat up, rubbing his temple to try to dispel the pounding in his head. Harry’s hand vanished from his back, and he felt cold in its absence. 

Then Cisco was there, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking worriedly into Hartley’s face. “You good, dude?”

Hartley resisted an urge to pull away. He looked around instead, seeing Harry rising and wandering across the room, back to the rest of them. Hartley struggled between two opposing feelings: a sense of relief that Harry was keeping his distance, and a sense of loss that Hartley loathed. What he hated even more was how confused and hurt he felt every time he looked at the older man.

Swallowing, he looked at Cisco once more, and found a faint smile. “I’m good. Thank you, Cisco.”

Cisco beamed. “No problem, dude. Glad you’re okay.” He turned back to Lisa and handed her something, which she tucked into a pocket. 

“Well,” Lisa said cheerfully. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Hart. I’d better get down to the kitchen before those boys destroy the place. Coming, Cisco?”

Without further discussion, Lisa and Cisco departed, leaving Hartley and Harrison Wells behind. Hartley got to his feet and looked at Harry, who was peering out the window with what seemed to be inordinate interest. 

Hartley struggled with himself for a few moments. “Thank you for helping me.”

Harry glanced at him in obvious surprise, brows shooting up. A tension eased in his posture. “It was nothing, Mr. Rathaway.” He paused. “You’re lucky to have those devices. Your power isn’t the worst I’ve seen, but…”

“It’s not luck,” Hartley said, feeling irritation rise in him instantly and hearing his own voice growing sharper. His head _ached_ , but he knew that was no excuse. This man just had a knack for making him feel defensive and off-balance with every sentence he spoke. He struggled not to give into it again. Even he was starting to get tired of the sound of his own anger. “I created them - yes, while I was in agony every moment.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Impressive.”

Hartley hated the way his heart rose and his stomach fluttered with pride at that response. He looked away and gestured off-handedly. “Let’s go help with dinner.”

He didn’t look to see if Wells followed, but felt the taller man fall in obediently behind him as Hartley headed for the door. “As you wish.”


	20. They Were 24/7 Dicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Rogueish Christmas dinner... which of course doesn't go as planned. And Joe and Shawna learn something important about the situation at the mansion.

As they stepped out of Hartley’s suite, Lisa’s arm slipped around Cisco’s waist and he found himself tugged down the hall into an alcove with a reading nook. The window at that end of the hall was sheeted with a thick layer of ice, letting in only a fraction of the late afternoon sunlight. “Hey cute stuff,” she murmured into his ear as they pressed together. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Cisco’s heart rate tripled in pace and he grinned hard enough to practically hurt, face pushed into her neck. “Well… I think so, Lisa. But where’ll we get a marching band out _here_?”

Lisa pulled back and gave him a confused look, and he reddened. So she wasn’t a fan of Pinky and the Brain. Check.

He rallied quickly. Gathered his dignity. “Ah, so. Anyway. Thinking?” _Nailed it._

She just smiled. “Mmm, thinking,” she agreed, batting her eyelashes. She kissed him, deeply, drawing it out. “Tonight?”

He nodded, breathless. “Tonight.”

She turned, grasping his hand, and they walked together down the hallway.

“Uh, question,” Cisco said suddenly, distracted by a chilling thought that had been worrying at his brain basically since his arrival. “Is your brother really _against_ us, you know, being together?”

Lisa probably wasn’t silent that long, but it felt like an eternity. “I’ll handle it,” she said finally, brows furrowing with annoyance. “Don’t worry.”

“Lisa,” he said, squeezing her hand to try to get her to stop her headlong rush towards the kitchen. “That means there’s something to worry about.”

She glanced at him, brow raised. “I _will_ handle it, Cisco. I’m a big girl, and Lenny doesn’t have the right to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“That’s true, but—”

“Stop worrying. We can do what we want.”

 _Right, I’ll just go ahead and stop worrying, except that my best friend’s boyfriend is apparently still a little bit homicidal,_ Cisco thought. _Under certain circumstances._

He kept his misgivings to himself, though, and shortly he lost any other opportunities to argue about them with Lisa anyway. The moment they reached the kitchen, Lisa took charge, and she was far too busy to calm his nerves. She gently, but firmly, shoved Cisco into Mick’s arms, and started ordering people around. Everyone was there - at least, everyone who was currently ambulatory (so, not Hartley) and wasn’t named Harrison Wells (so, not Harry) - and they all got a job. 

Except for those few whose job was simply to keep out of the way - like James Jesse, who had a tendency to appear extremely willing to help, and then accomplish absolutely nothing. He was ordered back to the den to amuse himself, and Cisco was just glad that _probably_ had more to do with playing solitaire and drinking egg nog than explosives.

Mick was in charge of the turkey, which mostly involved drinking, and occasionally basting. Cisco got to do the basting. Mick got to do the drinking, and the making of comments about how well or poorly the turkey was coming along.

At some point, Kyle Nimbus disappeared, while his potatoes were boiling. Snart handed Cisco a bowl of sprouts to trim, sent Barry to take over the potatoes, and told Lisa to quit grumbling when she muttered about him bailing on them. Nimbus reappeared shortly before dinner, and stared wordlessly for some seconds at Lisa when she handed him a potato masher and a container of milk, then shrugged and finished up the potatoes without a word.

Round about the time Mick started carving the turkey, Hartley emerged, to snarky cheers and good-natured teasing. He looked none the worse for wear, and smiled as Roy clapped him on the back. Harry was like his shadow, silent and somber, virtually ignored as he followed the younger man.

At dinner, they all found places at the amazingly long table, and Cisco wound up sitting next to Hartley, with Mick on his other side, and Lisa a frustrating three seats down, next to Snart and Barry. He wished she was close enough to play footsie with, especially since he was still vaguely annoyed with Mick, and hyperaware each time someone looked at him that they all had heard Mick’s humiliating announcement this morning.

“How’re you doing, Hartley?” he asked, trying to ignore Mick’s warm presence at his elbow. 

Mick attempted to steal a slice of turkey from his plate, and Cisco stabbed him with his fork. Mick grunted, but Cisco could see him grinning out of the corner of his eye. Asshole.

“I’m fine, thanks in no small measure to you,” Hartley said. “Even the headache’s going away, now.”

It was nice to be appreciated, but Cisco didn’t want to hog all the credit. “Hey, Harry helped, too. He’s the one who took care of you when it happened, and realized what the problem was. I’m just more familiar with your tech than he is.”

He caught a surprised look from Harry. “Wait, are you praising me, Ramon?” quipped Wells from Hartley’s other side. “Astonishing.”

Hartley flushed visibly, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Yes, well.” He didn’t quite seem to know how to end that sentence, so he just said, “Well,” again, and fell silent.

Cisco offered him an understanding smile, stabbed Mick’s reaching hand again, and went back to his meal. Maybe Hartley was coming around to realizing that Harry wasn’t Eobard Thawne. Too bad Harry was also still a jerk.

The meal definitely seemed to improve everyone’s mood. Alcohol flowed liberally, and platter after platter was passed around, until they were all pleasantly stuffed, drunk, and sleepy from the tryptophan. Though Cisco couldn’t quite forget that they were all trapped inside by some kind of weird ghost, the threat seemed far away as generous slices of chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream were handed out and he did his best to somehow find a way to fit the dessert into his stomach along with all the food he’d already eaten.

But just as Cisco was contemplating how good life really was, he realized all was not so idyllic at the other end of the table. 

“Just stop it, Lenny. What is going on with you?” snapped Lisa, her voice rising above the conversation in the space formed by a natural lull and turning everyone’s head.

Snart was stone-faced, eyes narrowed. Even from Cisco’s vantage point, it looked like he was holding his ice cream spoon a little too tightly. He hadn’t taken any cake, just a large mound of ice cream and rainbow sprinkles. “Give it a rest, Lisa. Don’t do this right—”

“No, I _am_ doing it right now,” she said haughtily, apparently uncaring that all eyes were on the Snart siblings. “Why are you being such a bear? You’ve been a grump all evening. Are you really that pissed off that I’ve decided to do something for myself? Do you really not like him?” She gestured down the table, and it was obvious whom she was pointing at. Immediately, Cisco wished he could sink into his seat and disappear.

“That’s not—” 

“You are _unbelievable_.” Lisa scoffed. “ _Him_ , of all people isn’t good enough for me? You’re not our dad, Lenny, so stop acting like you are.”

Len stood up from the table hard enough that the chair screeched across the floor like a wounded animal. “No, he’s not,” Len snapped abruptly. “He’s not the right choice for you.”

Now Lisa was on her feet, too. “That is between him and me, Lenny. It’s not up to—”

Cisco had started to rise, but Mick and Hartley both simultaneously grabbed him. Hartley had him by the back of the collar, and Mick just wrapped his arm around his shoulders, an inexorable pressure forcing him back down into his seat. “Quiet, pretty,” Mick growled into his ear. “Best not to.”

“But that’s not what I’m upset about,” Len snarled, overriding the rest of Lisa’s sentence. He pointed at Kyle. “Nimbus, tell the class what you found today.”

Kyle blinked at suddenly being made the focus of attention in what had seemed to be merely a knock-down drag out fight between the Snart, but he rallied quickly. He set down his fork and glanced around. “Nothing. I didn’t find anything. While everyone else was in the kitchen making dinner, except for them.” He gave a perfunctory nod to Hartley and Harry. “I scoured every inch of this place from attic to foundations. I didn’t find anyone else in the house.”

Mark sat up. “What about tunnels or secret doors, like last time?”

“I searched for those, too, Mark. No sign of anything. No weird drafts or odd spaces I didn’t explore. Nothing.”

There was a moment’s silence as everyone pondered that, finally broken by Len. “You want to know why I’m a little on edge, sis? _That’s_ why. We still don’t know what we’re dealing with, and two of our people have already gotten hurt.”

Cisco was oddly flattered to be included as one of ‘his’ people.

Lisa sniffed, clearly unmollified. “That doesn’t mean you need to take it out on us.”

“You’re right,” Snart said through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry. But.” He raised a finger before Lisa could say anything further. “You’re also right that you can do what you want. If you want to fuck with Cisco and mess him up like I’ve messed up this one—” He pointed at Barry. “Go right ahead.”

Barry jumped to his feet. “Now hang on a second Len, you haven’t—”

“Be quiet, Flash,” Snart snapped. Barry’s mouth shut abruptly, and he sat down again, looking hurt.

And at that moment, the front door slammed open, stopping the argument in its tracks.

* * *

“Joe.”

Shawna nudged him with her toe. Joe West grunted softly and turned over, opening his eyes sluggishly. Okay, he was alive. That was good.

She rose, the dust-smelling blanket wrapped tightly around herself as she tottered over to the woodburning stove. She twisted the handle and pulled open the cast iron door, peering inside. The fire had burned low and the cabin was starting to get chilly. She grabbed a few old pieces of wood and pushed them inside, wincing back from the sparks that flew up from the embers. 

The police officer was sitting up now, arms wrapped around himself and hands chafing in an effort to work feeling back into his body. Shawna hesitated, then sat down beside him, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. The wind shook the cabin hard enough that it creaked and groaned, and she wondered if it would just fall down next. That would be fitting.

Joe tugged the blanket more securely around them both. Warmth radiated from his body and it was an effort not to throw pride to the wind and snuggle right in. She settled on drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them instead, and leaning against his side.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“Better,” she said. “Thanks to you.”

He shook his head. “We wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

She tried not to admit, even to herself, that it was warming to hear those words. It seemed like Joe West wasn’t that bad a guy after all, which was a startling conclusion to make. After all her experiences with law enforcement in general, and also the Flash and his friends, it was easy to assume they were 24/7 dicks.

The silence drew out, broken only by the unceasing wind and the spatter of snow against the windows. She turned her head and looked, but all she could see was blackness.

“What time do you suppose it is?” she murmured. “Seems like this night’s gone on forever.”

“I dunno. My watch stopped,” said Joe.

She looked at him, startled. He extended a hand, pulling up his sleeve to display a heavy gold watch. The hands were pointed at just a little after four o’clock. “Well, at least we know dawn has to be close,” she said. “If it stopped at four am.”

“It stopped at four PM,” Joe corrected solemnly. “I noticed it just after I pulled over, and there’s no way that was after four in the morning.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “You know…”

“Yeah,” Joe sighed out, as if she’d voiced his own thought. “I’ve been thinking for a while. Something just don’t feel right about this whole thing. First the cellphones don’t work, and the radio in the car. My watch stops right around the time we left the house, and that watch… that was my father’s watch. Nothin’ but a bomb woulda killed it.”

“And this night never ends,” Shawna said, looking out at the snow. “It’s just going on and on.”

They looked at each other, and Shawna saw Joe’s eyes flick around the room, before returning to her face. His tone was cautious as he spoke. “I think we should go back to the house.”

Shawna froze, her eyes widening. “But Joe, we ca—” 

He shushed her, his hand gripping her elbow tightly. “No, Shawna. I really think we should _go back to the house_.”

Was he crazy? Did he think someone was listening to them? She swallowed. “Yeah, yeah I think you’re right,” she said, wondering what that look in his eye meant. What was he thinking?

The wind stopped. Light flooded the little cabin - poor light, dying, slanting light shining through a patina of snow on glass, but light nonetheless.

 _Evening_ light.

Joe got up, and walked to the door. Shawna jumped up, heart pounding, and watched as he opened the door, and ruddy sunlight and snow spilled inside. “Shawna, take a look at this.”

She moved towards him, and he stood aside.

In front of them was an unbroken field of snow. To their left, a line of hedges and a wrought iron fence. Ahead, a hump of mostly snow she recognized as the form of a car. From the places where the snow had fallen away, she could see the colour and shape of it - Joe’s car. The car they had abandoned by the side of the road miles back.

And to the right, up the hill, was the house where the Rogues were having their party. The sun was setting and it was nearly dark.

“What the _fuck_?”

Joe’s hand landed on her shoulder. “This is the old guard house, by the gate,” he said. “Look around.”

She glanced around them. The house was much smaller than she had realized. Not a cabin, more of a shack. There was a chair - not a sofa, but a rickety wooden chair with a single moth-eaten cushion - and a tiny stove even smaller than the one she had seen before. There was no sign of the bedroom Joe had investigated to find the blanket she wore.

And even as she had that thought, she realized she had Joe’s jacket draped around her shoulders, not a blanket. There was no sign of the blanket she had thought she was wearing. No sign they had ever gone further than the bottom of the driveway.

“You’re right,” she said, taking hold of Joe’s elbow. “We’ve got to go back.”

In three jumps, they were at the top of the hill. Even as they landed on the front stoop, the thick sheet of ice covering the front door and windows was melting away as if flame had been applied to it. Joe grabbed the doorknob and opened the door, the last bit of ice cracking away and shattering on the ground.

They went inside.

There was a flurry of activity. Rogues reacted to the sudden intrusion in predictable fashion, with a scraping of chairs and a grabbing of weapons. They came streaming from the dining room with Leonard Snart at the head, but he pulled up short at the sight of them.

“You’re back,” Len said, blue eyes wide and startled. “What are you two doing here?”

“We never left,” said Shawna. “Snart, we’ve _really_ got to talk.”


	21. Not A Gentle Kinda Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's got to have a talk about what Joe and Shawna experienced. 
> 
> Also, Mick's pretty sure that it's time for Cisco to get his virgin ass pounding. Cisco...is not so sure.

Len was about to take Shawna and West somewhere private to find out what had happened, but Mardon spoke up before he had the chance. “Then talk, Shawna. We’re all here, and we all want to know why you came crawling back.”

Of _course_.

Shawna just rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Mark. We—” she paused, and swayed, and West put a hand on her shoulder as she went pale.

“What’s wrong?” Len demanded, taking a step closer. She looked for a moment like she was about to fold up and hit the floor, but West seemed to be doing a good job of supporting her. Muttering rose all around them. 

“Nothing,” Shawna snapped, straightening up.

“We haven’t eaten or slept much,” Joe said, a tightness in his tone. “And we nearly froze to death. Give us a little space, will you?”

Len growled and gestured to the gathered Rogues. “Axel, fix some plates for them. Let’s do this in the den. Get them seated close to the fire. Go.”

At that imperious command, the others sprang into action. Suddenly the accusatory, tense atmosphere evaporated, and the others, particularly the younger Rogues, seemed to realize that Shawna needed their help - and they vaguely gave a crap about that. 

In minutes, everyone was gathered in the den by the denuded, but upright, Christmas tree. Shawna and Joe were seated like royalty near a fire that Mick had woken to roaring status, with blankets wrapped around them and plates of Christmas fare in their laps. 

Len considered briefly taking a seat near them, but he chose to sit apart, with Barry next to him. The desire to be up close to the action gave way to his stronger desire to avoid sweating like a pig.

When everyone had gathered, Joe told the story of how he and Shawna had gone to his car and driven for what felt like hours, until they ran out of gas, how they had walked for miles in search of shelter and found a cabin. 

“Thing is,” Joe said, glancing at Cisco. He had addressed nearly all of his comments more to the Team Flash trio than the Rogues, like it was habit, or maybe just because he would rather pretend the Rogues weren’t even there. “None of it made sense. We’re not that far from Central City. There’s no way that we wouldn’t have seen a single person for that long, not to mention how coincidental finding that cabin was, where there shouldn’t even _be_ a cabin like that. Then Shawna pointed out how it seemed like the night was just going on forever and I realized that my watch hadn’t been working for some reason.”

“Your watch stopped?” Barry gasped softly. 

Joe held up his wrist. “It’s working now. Like it never stopped. And that just proves what I started to think was really going on here.”

Len leaned forward. The story had been interesting, but now they were getting to the crux of it. He felt like Joe had realized something significant, and that realization was even now tickling at the back of Len’s mind, but he wanted to hear from the other man before he ventured his own theory. “And what’s that, Detective?”

“I think whoever attacked Cisco can also control what we see,” Joe said gravely. “I think we were just sitting in a stationary car, and then wandering in circles for the last two days. I think my watch never stopped, but I just couldn’t see it going because then I’d realize how much time had really passed. Hell… I hate to say it, but it’s possible that none of what we’re seeing right now is real.”

Those ominous words fell into a silence like a stone sinking into a bottomless pool. Everyone looked at everyone else, not a single rustle or cough breaking the horror of that. Len himself sat back slowly, his arm going around Barry and tightening _hard_ as he struggled to decide how he was going to react to that. 

Axel spoke up first. “What the _fuck_ are you saying?”

James was next to break the silence, far more serene than his son. “So what you’re saying, my dear Joseph, is that even were we to escape this delightful hellhouse, we might wander about on the front lawn until we die of exposure. But in that case, how did you ever break through the illusions and make your way back here?”

Shawna set down the turkey leg she was eating. “He started talking about going back to the house, and all of a sudden, there it was. The asshole just wants us to stay here forever, I guess.”

“How _hospitable_ of them.” James cocked his head and glanced at his son. Axel cursed again and walked out of the room, kicking a chair as he went. James’ eyes rolled upwards towards the ceiling. “Well _I_ think this calls for another drink. Excuse me.” He straightened up and ambled after Axel.

“Lenny,” Lisa said softly, and Len realized nearly everyone was looking at him. Of course they were. Too bad he had no fucking clue what he was going to do.

No, he knew exactly what he had to do - distract. And delegate.

He got to his feet. “Here’s what we’re going to do - for now, nothing. Our host isn’t exactly friendly, but we paid for the use of this place and we’re damn well gonna enjoy it. There’s no reason to leave - so _put that out of your heads_. Don’t give our host any reason to think we’re unhappy, and I’m sure they’ll be a lot more hospitable - right Jesse?” 

He glared around significantly, and hoped that they’d get the message. Of course they all wanted to leave, but if they pretended they didn’t, perhaps their enemy would let their guard down.

Everyone exchanged glances, and he saw a couple of nods from people, indicating that they understood. 

“I could still go if I wanted,” Nimbus said in a growl, glancing at the chimney. “Place might be covered in ice, but it’s not _air tight_.” Before Len could tell him off again - as he so _richly_ wanted to - he added clearly. “But I’ve decided to stay.”

“But Len,” Barry said softly. “What if she attacks Cisco again?”

Cisco was sitting next to Lisa, who had an arm protectively around him as well. Len glanced at the younger man, who gave him a wan shrug and a weak smile. 

“Hopefully since we’ve decided to stick around, there’s no reason she will,” Len said. 

He drew a breath and let it out, then summoned a defiant smirk. “Now, who’s up for Cards Against Humanity? I’m gonna beat Mick this time.”

Mick snorted and levered himself up from his place by the fire, cracking his knuckles. “Bring it on, Snart.”

* * *

The rest of the evening after Joe and Shawna’s return was largely uneventful. Axel and James didn’t make a reappearance, but otherwise everyone remained in the den, playing games. Cisco wound up joining in on the Cards Against Humanity game. Actually, nearly everyone did - even Hartley. Harry and Joe spent the time deep in conversation, going over the details of everything that happened to Joe after leaving the house. A part of Cisco thought he probably should be listening and working on it - after all, Snart had apparently tasked him with being point man on Operation Ain’t Afraid Of No Ghost (he was still working on the name).

But the truth was, he didn’t really feel like it. He was having too much fun trading zingers with the Rogues and not getting punched. It was cool.

Mick won again, of course.

Cisco was a solid egg nog or two past tipsy when the game broke up and everyone went to bed. He got to his feet, swaying slightly, but Lisa was beside him, her arm slipping lightly around his waist. They traded good night kisses, full of promise, and then Mick practically picked him up by the scruff of the neck and frog-marched him away.

“Hey!” Lisa said, loudly enough to even override Cisco’s own exclamation as he was pulled away. “I wasn’t done with him,” she pouted.

“He sleeps with me,” Mick growled.

“I want to sleep with _her_ ,” Cisco protested, almost under his breath. He was suddenly _acutely_ aware of Len’s glare, so the words all but died in his throat. He swallowed and sulked as he walked upstairs to Mick’s room. 

Mick released him as they walked through the door, and Cisco paced the room for a few minutes, listening as Mick did his business in the bathroom, and gathering his courage. When the arsonist emerged from the bathroom, Cisco was ready.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Cisco said eagerly, darting across the room towards Mick. “When everyone’s asleep, you can bring me to Lisa’s room. In the morning, we meet up before breakfast, and no one has to confront the ice dragon.”

Mick snorted softly. “Ice dragon, pretty?”

“Leonard Snart,” Cisco clarified helpfully. “So what do you say? Care to help me pull off the booty call of the year?”

There was no immediate response. Mick stared down at him for a long, uncomfortable silence before finally speaking. “I thought we were gonna fuck tonight.”

Cisco’s stomach made a weird sort of fluttery lurch. Could butterflies have ten pound weights attached to them? Like that. He felt his ears turn red and he took a step back as the flush rushed across the rest of his face. 

“You thought we’d still have sex? After what you pulled this morning?”

Mick’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talkin’ about?”

Okay, Cisco had started off this exchange in a state of mortification, but now anger was fully in charge. He turned away, fists clenching, and paced across the room. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Heat Wave right now. 

He whirled around once he’d put enough distance between himself and Mick that his skin wasn’t crawling anymore. “Are you kidding me? You humiliated me in front of _everyone_. Didn’t you think that might put a crimp in our sex life?”

Mick shifted from foot to foot. “I didn’t think…”

“Let me tell you,” Cisco snorted. “I’m not surprised by _that_.” 

The scowl from Mick sent a chill through Cisco. Also, he felt a little bad for calling Mick stupid right then. But only a little bad - he was still pissed.

Mick shrugged his shoulders and started to shed his clothing, moving across the room as he did so until he was naked, standing by the bed. Cisco moved to keep his distance, unsure of what was going to happen next. 

“I didn’t think you’d be so upset about it,” Mick said matter-of-factly, staring down at the bed. 

Cisco rolled his eyes. “Why’d you think I’d be anything other than upset? It was a total dick move, man! Why’d you _do_ that?”

Mick looked at him, frowning like _Cisco_ was the dumb one and he was only now realizing just how dumb he was. “If I fucked you, they’d figure it out, right? Even if we didn’t say nothin’ about it, someone would know about it tomorrow. The walls ain’t that thick.”

Cisco frowned right back. “I guess that’s a risk, sure.”

“Not a risk. They’re _gonna_ know.”

Cisco reddened, getting irritated. “So what?”

“But you wanna be with Lisa,” Mick said, spreading his hands like he was talking to a rather dimwitted child. “So if I’m fucking you, and Lisa’s fucking you, then maybe you’re just fair game for anyone who wants you.”

Now the butterflies were back. Except there were a _lot_ more of them. And they were sort of cold, and heavy and— let’s just suffice it to say that Cisco was starting to get pretty damn uncomfortable. He was starting to see the shape of what Mick was saying, and it was…horrifying.

“Are you saying you did that this morning, to… to show that - what? That I _belong_ to Lisa, and if you fuck me it’s only because she _let_ you? Because maybe if you didn’t establish that, I’d get--” His words failed him at that point, his throat rejecting them before he could voice them. He wanted to hurl instead of saying it.

Mick grinned. “He gets it.”

“ _That’s really fucked up, dude!_ ”

The grin faded. “Guess so. Doesn’t change the truth, kid.”

Cisco looked down, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the dresser. He wanted to crawl under the bed and cry for a very long time. For the first time since arriving here, he really _didn’t_ feel safe. 

Mick got into bed and pulled the covers over his nudity.

“You… were really trying to protect me?” Cisco asked. Even he could hear the soft fear in his own voice. He always hated that sound, but Cisco wore his heart on his sleeve. He couldn’t help it.

“Don’t think about it too hard, pretty. I get it. I ain’t gonna be the one to force you, not like some of those others out there. You changed your mind, so that’s that.” Mick turned over and tugged the blanket up higher.

Cisco hesitated, then began to undress. He took off each article of clothing and let them fall in a heap, then drew a breath and walked to the bed. He realized only when he was crawling under the covers and saw Mick startle, saw him look back at him with wide, surprised eyes - only then did he really know what it was he intended to do.

Then he scooted close to Mick and kissed him.

Mick froze up at the kiss, his whole body tensing, but Cisco pressed on, wrapping his arms around the bigger man and continuing to rub his lips sensually against Mick’s. The awkward moment of surprise dragged on surprisingly long, and Cisco’s brain began to rebel. Wasn’t this okay? Mick had made his interest pretty damn clear. Had he changed his mind? Had Cisco totally fucked up and lost his chance now?

Then, it was like a dam gave way. Without warning, Mick gave a hearty, hungry growl and rolled over, pushing Cisco down and covering him with his body. Cisco squeaked in surprise as his back hit the mattress, and then surged upwards gamely, kissing Mick harder. Mick’s lips were rough and demanding, and _thrilling_ , and Cisco’s heart pounded with excitement. 

Cisco ran his hands over Mick’s back and shoulders as they kissed. Mick’s scarred skin was bubbled and unnaturally tough under Cisco’s fingers, and a stray thought flickered through his head, a curiosity about whether or not Mick could even feel him touch there. He scraped experimentally with his fingernails.

Had he felt it? Or was it just a coincidence that Mick abruptly reared up, caught Cisco around the waist and flipped him over? Cisco would never know. He grunted, all of the air driven out of him as Mick pushed him face down with a rough hand buried in his hair and ground against his ass. 

Cisco struggled for a moment, and managed to turn his head. “I’ve gotta _breathe_!”

Mick instantly drew back, easing off of his grip enough that Cisco was able to pull in a full breath. “Sorry,” Mick grunted. With a hand planted squarely between Cisco’s shoulder-blades, his hips snapped forward again and rubbed his cock between the cheeks of Cisco’s ass. Cisco could feel Mick’s cock swelling even as the older man rutted against him. His own member woke up in response, his body flushing with warmth.

Mick’s cock swelled. And _swelled_. Oh god.

“You… you’ll be gentle, right?” Cisco said nervously, hearing that breathless desire gasping in his chest. 

Mick rocked against him again, more thoughtfully. “Not a gentle kinda guy, pretty. But I’ll try.” He reached around, his calloused fingers slipping along Cisco’s thigh and then between his legs. Mick stroked him slowly, working over his shaft and giving a little twist on each stroke. 

When Cisco had melted completely into a little moaning puddle, Mick suddenly stopped stroking him and leaned away. Cisco groaned impatiently and squirmed, but that hand kept him pinned like a horny butterfly to the bed. Mick rooted around in the bedside table and came up with a small tube that made Cisco’s heart go _thump_. 

He was going to get pounded in the ass by Mick Rory. His inaugural ass pounding. And he had delivered his virgin ass to _Heat Wave_. He had to be crazy.

But he was so incredibly turned on, he didn’t have the heart to panic about it.

Mick pressed a finger into Cisco’s body. “Stroke yourself, pretty,” he ordered in a quiet rumble. Cisco swallowed, his heart racing again as he took himself in hand and stroked his own cock. “But don’t come,” Mick added. 

“I got it,” Cisco gasped. Mick’s finger felt _huge_ , but he knew it was nothing compared to what he was going to have to accommodate in a few minutes. However, his erection wasn’t flagging at _all_. The thought of taking that massive member into his body was far more exciting than terrifying. 

Or just maybe it was exciting _because_ it was terrifying.

Mick stretched him without mercy. He added a second blunt finger, and then, astonishingly, a third. Cisco heard himself whimpering and whining desperately, writhing helplessly in Mick’s grip. His hand was barely moving on his cock, and yet he was hard as a rock, and _aching_. 

“Please, Mick,” Cisco groaned.

As if that had been a signal, Mick pulled his fingers free. He grabbed Cisco one-handed by the hip, and fisted another hand in Cisco’s hair, tugging his head back. Cisco yelped as he was pulled up, his scalp protesting, and Mick’s cock slid into his body like a hand into a glove.

“Oh _god_ ,” Cisco whined. 

And then Mick started to fuck him like a goddamned jackhammer, and he lost all ability to speak.

He yelled, though. That, he did until his throat was sore.

Mick rode him hard, using one hand at his hip to brace himself, and the other tangled in Cisco’s hair, drawing his head back until his throat formed a long, tight column. He couldn’t move, or speak, or think. Mick’s cock thrust into him over and over, driving every last thought from his mind until Cisco’s whole world was nothing but sensation.

He gasped once, arched his back, and climaxed harder than he ever had in his life. Mick grunted and simply upped his pace, driving into him even harder, even while Cisco moaned and writhed, pinned on the end of his cock. Cisco’s body tingled and shuddered as Mick used him, going limp in his grasp.

Finally, Mick shuddered as well and bent over him, releasing his grip on Cisco’s hair and dropping his hands down on either side of Cisco’s shoulders to brace himself as he came. Heat flooded into Cisco’s body and then Mick pulled out of him and dropped onto his back. The bigger man breathed hard, and Cisco finally collapsed, gasping and whimpering, totally overwhelmed from the physical battering he’d just endured.

After long minutes, Cisco managed to come back to himself enough to open his eyes and turned his head to look at Mick, who lay gazing up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling regularly. If his eyes weren’t open, Cisco might have thought he was asleep. “Holy shit, man,” Cisco rasped, and swallowed. His throat was _sore_. 

“You good, pretty?” Mick asked roughly, turning his head to look at him. His lips spread in a smirk.

Cisco considered that for a long moment. He ached all over. His ass was throbbing. His scalp was stinging. His whole body was tingling. Overall, he felt like he’d been thoroughly reamed.

“I’m great,” he croaked. It wasn’t a lie. 

He scooted closer and tucked his head against Mick’s shoulder. Mick grunted in surprise. After a moment, Mick wrapped his arm around Cisco’s shoulders and within seconds, Cisco had fallen into the deepest sleep he’d enjoyed since arriving here.


	22. Everybody Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all know, Cisco. They all know.

Hartley watched the scene unfolding between Mick, Len, Lisa, and Cisco and had to suppress a laugh. They were all being completely ridiculous. It was obvious what needed to happen - Mick, Lisa, and Cisco all needed to share and stop overthinking things. And Snart needed to get the hell out of the way.

He’d have said something, but it was entirely too much fun to watch. Besides, he wasn’t sure whether his head would get bitten off - or worse - if he put in his two cents. In any other setting, he wouldn’t have thought twice, but he wasn’t really well-respected within certain circles within the Rogues, and he’d learned to bite his tongue. It was bullshit, but bullies loved to bully nerds in particular - even outside of the schoolyard, apparently. And the only people whose respect _mattered_ knew his value - that being Snart, and really no one else.

And then he looked at Wells, and remembered that there was another very good reason why he should probably keep his mouth shut. He was a towering hypocrite when it came to matters of the heart.

Three days in and he was even more confused than he was when Wells first arrived.

At first, it had been easy to loathe him. He’d known it was unfair - this Wells wasn’t the one who’d hurt him. It hadn’t even _been a Harrison Wells_ who had hurt him, only a man wearing his face. But looking at Wells still made Hartley’s heart pound and his blood boil. And… caused other reactions, more difficult to face.

Worse, Harrison hadn’t been a jerk back to him. Even though Hartley knew he deserved it. That hurt, and felt good, and then hurt even _more_. 

He was so lost in thought that when Wells’ hand landed on his shoulder, Hartley jumped. Wells and Joe had been talking all evening, and Hartley had not paid them too much mind. He’d been busy getting royally trounced at Cards Against Humanity, but having fun anyway. The sudden appearance had Hartley’s heart racing again, as if the older man had somehow divined the direction of his thoughts.

He looked up. God, Harrison was handsome. Hartley wanted to punch that face, and then maybe suck on his cock for a while.

“Detective West and I are wondering where he’s going to sleep,” Harrison said quietly. The other man was listing somewhat to the left, rubbing his hand over his face in an obvious attempt to keep himself awake, and Hartley couldn’t blame him. He clearly hadn’t had much sleep in the last 48 hours, and he wasn’t a spring chicken.

But why was Harrison asking him? Did he expect Hartley to take charge of him? 

Belatedly, he realized that was _exactly_ what Wells was probably hoping for. And even more belatedly, he realized that his visceral reaction against it was borne entirely of jealousy.

He swallowed hard and glanced at Len. “It’s not my decision,” he said, taking refuge in that truth even though he knew that if he volunteered he would probably be given the other man as well. _Not a good idea. They could overpower me working together,_ he thought, and wondered if that was Harrison’s intention all along. The cynical thought steadied him. These people weren’t entirely his enemies, but they certainly weren’t friends.

Len looked over at the detective. “West, you look like you’re gonna fall asleep right there,” he drawled, closing his fingers around Barry Allen’s hand and getting to his feet. 

He looked around with an obvious calculation, and Mark Mardon made to rise. Len grimaced and opened his mouth, clearly to tell him to sit down, but Shawna spoke before he could get it out. “I’ll take him, Snart,” she said, smothering a yawn. 

“You sure you don’t want me to take charge of him, Shawna?” Mardon said, smirking. “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’d be more worried about you getting hurt, sexist prick,” Shawna said. She got to her feet and kicked him in the shin as she walked past. He yelped, and she vanished in a cloud of black smoke, appearing next to Joe West. In an instant, and another puff of smoke, they were both gone.

Well, that took care of that. Len chuckled and dragged his charge out of the room without another word, while Mark rubbed his leg and glared furiously around the room. The temperature was dropping precipitously, and Hartley decided it was time to go. 

“Come on,” he said, and his hand slipped into Harrison’s grasp like it was made to be there. Not that he’d ever held hands with _his_ Harrison. But he’d imagined what it might feel like a thousand times over the years that he had worked for STAR Labs. Before Harrison had betrayed him, and proven that everything they’d had together was nothing more than lies and manipulation.

The older man grunted in surprise, but didn’t pull his hand away. About halfway up the stairs, Hartley released him, feeling awkward and hating himself.

They entered Hartley’s suite and there was a pregnant silence. Harrison stood by the door, watching Hartley alertly through the lenses of those glasses that looked, to Hartley, foreign and wrong on his face. Hartley glanced at him, and away, then strode quickly into the bathroom and shut the door.

He brushed his teeth furiously, spat out the mouthful of minty foam, then stared at himself in the mirror. _Why shouldn’t I?_ he thought suddenly. _Snart didn’t hesitate to take Barry Allen when he wanted him, and Lisa and Mick are tussling over Cisco without an ounce of shame. Why shouldn’t I do what I want? I’m a Rogue, too. I belong here as much as any of them._

The thought turned his stomach. 

_What if he let me?_ he thought then, and that steadied him.

He stepped out of the bathroom. Harrison was making up his pallet on the floor, unfolding the blanket and fluffing up the pillow. “Stop that,” Hartley said, his voice too harsh for his ears - but it was that or give in to the way it wanted to tremble. Harrison looked up at him, a somewhat tired, questioning look in his eyes. “You can sleep in the bed tonight,” Hartley added.

Harrison raised an eyebrow. “Oh _may_ I?” he said, a tinge of sarcasm in his tone.

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable,” Hartley said, and abruptly turned away. He pretended to ignore the older man’s gaze as he skinned out of his clothes, striding in nothing but boxers to the bed and climbing in. 

Harrison sighed out of his nose and shut off the lights. He took his time, either reluctant or unhurried as he also brushed his teeth and used the washroom. Hartley waited with increasing irritation and nervousness. Was he reluctant or just didn’t care? Either option was bad.

After an eternity, Harrison emerged from the bathroom and approached the bed. He sat down and slid under the covers. Hartley scooted closer, rested a hand on Harrison’s chest, and felt fabric. He hadn’t undressed, so that was a signal. _Fuck_. 

“What do you want from me, Mr. Rathaway?” Harrison murmured. 

“Nothing,” Hartley lied, and then squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the sour bile that rose in his throat. _Why am I such a coward?_

Harrison’s heart was beating quickly. Hartley could hear it, syncopating with his own. Was he afraid? He opened his mouth to say something - he didn’t even know what - but Harrison spoke softly. “You called me ‘sir’, earlier.”

Hartley’s throat closed. “I did not,” he snapped, strangled words forced out.

“You did.”

Hartley couldn’t speak. He raged against the walls of his own head, a thousand excuses crowding his mind, and none of them would come forth. It took several minutes for him to recover enough composure to speak, let alone think of something to say. “I… I was sleeping with the other Harrison Wells,” he managed finally.

“You don’t say.”

Tears pricked at Hartley’s eyes, and the wry sarcasm in Harrison’s tone was no help at all. “He had this thing. You see, because we couldn’t let any of our colleagues know we were together. It was all a big secret. And I thought the way he treated me, that it was because of that, because we had to be careful. But he always said I was his protege, I was precious to him. I thought he loved me.” _Too_. “But he didn’t. He was a sociopath, a manipulative, evil monster, and all he wanted was to use me.”

The words came in a torrent, even as Hartley wondered why he was saying them at all. This Harrison cared for him no more than the other had - even less, likely, if that were possible. Hartley hadn’t exactly done anything to ingratiate himself. But he couldn’t stop the words, once he’d begun, until they ran out. 

His voice broke on the last phrase, and he could finally, mercifully stop speaking. He fell silent with a ragged breath. 

Harrison’s heartbeat had slowed to normal. He took a breath. “You didn’t have to tell me this.”

Hartley closed his eyes. A tear slipped down his cheek. Burning. “I know.”

Harrison was silent for a few moments. “Hartley,” he said, awkward as if trying out the shape of the name in his mouth for the first time. “I’m not a kind man. I don’t think I’m a bad person and I’m not… I would never do to anyone what I suspect Thawne did to you, but I don’t think I can give you what you need.”

“And what’s that?” Hartley asked, hopelessly.

“I honestly have no idea,” Harrison admitted.

Hartley chuckled, a raw sound. Then he pushed up, slipping both arms around Harrison’s neck. He kissed him, softly, but with urgency, pressing himself along the long, lean, and oh-so-familiar line of Harrison’s body.

Harrison put his arms gently around Hartley and returned the kiss, his lips cool and soft. They kissed for long minutes, Harrison’s hands resting chastely at the base of Hartley’s spine, above the waistband of his boxers.

Finally, Hartley broke the kiss and looked down at the older man, who gazed up at him calmly. “You’re straight, aren’t you?” Hartley said, but he smiled and it felt natural on his face.

Harrison’s lips twisted upwards somewhat in return. “Yes.”

“Figures.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Hartley settled down, burying his damaged ear at the crook of Harrison’s shoulder and resting his cheek against his chest. Harrison allowed it without complaint, his thumb rubbing up and down Hartley’s spine. 

“Don’t be,” Hartley said softly. 

He fell asleep quickly, though the tears were still drying on his cheeks, while Harrison lay quiescent beneath him, arms warm around him and his fingers still caressing Hartley.

* * *

Mick had been right. _Everybody_ knew.

Cisco and Mick came downstairs the following morning, with Cisco a little sore and worrying that he was walking bowlegged, and Mick’s hand resting proudly on his shoulder. For a second, Cisco wondered what he had to be proud of, and then he realized that the older man was probably just being possessive. When Mick growled and gripped Cisco tighter, everyone started giving them a wide berth, but the looks Cisco got from every corner ranged from lascivious smirks to eyerolls, depending on the source. Cisco just kept blushing, which only egged them on.

They got breakfast and coffee and sat down alone in the dining room. For a moment, Cisco knew peace, sitting next to Heat Wave and drinking his coffee without a dozen looks and winks constantly being thrown in his direction. 

But it was only a moment. Mark Mardon, Kyle Nimbus, Roy Bivolo, and Hartley Rathaway with Harrison Wells in tow all came crowding into the room, chatting and clattering dishes and passing the syrup around to pour over their pancakes. 

Mark didn’t take his seat immediately. He diverted long enough to clap Mick on the shoulder before rounding the big dining table and sitting down directly opposite them. “Amazed you didn’t break him in half,” he joked, and glanced at Cisco with an evil expression. “When do the rest of us get a shot? I wouldn’t stick my cock in that, but I wouldn’t mind having a chance to make him scream my own way--”

Mick didn’t even blink. He just went for Mark’s throat. 

With a roar, the big man launched himself over the table, scattering dishes. Mark’s chair went over with the Weather Wizard still in it, and Mick on top of him, punching with abandon. Everyone pushed their chairs back from the table, yelling, and Cisco jumped up, his chair clattering to the floor in his visceral reflex to get away. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that violence.

But as he turned to flee, nearly tripping over his overturned chair in his haste, he ran straight into something soft and unyielding. 

Lisa grabbed him around the waist and held him close. “Hey, hey,” she said softly. “Where are you going, baby?” Barry was right there too, catching Cisco by the hand and squeezing reassuringly, but looking worried under his cowl.

Leonard Snart barreled past them, vaulting the table with alacrity, though his tone was calm and scarcely elevated when he spoke. “Okay Mick, that’s enough.” He grabbed Mick by the shoulder and pulled. The big man got up, huffing and blowing like a racehorse, teeth bared in rage. 

Mark stood shakily, a shiner already swelling his right eye. “What the _fuck_ ,” he snapped, hands coming together with fingers crooked as if to hold a ball between them, as the wind whipped their hair and the temperature fell. Ice swirled between his fingers. 

Len gave him a harsh shove, and he stumbled into the wall, losing his grip on the half-formed ice ball. Snow pattered onto the floor. “That’s _enough_ ,” Len repeated. “Both of you, cool it.”

“I’m tired of his goddamn shit,” Mick rumbled. He jabbed a thumb at Cisco, who shrank slightly against Lisa as all eyes went to him. “He ain’t for public use, you said. He’s for _Lisa_. If Voldemort wants someone to fuck, he ought to look on Craigslist like everyone else.”

 _Voldemort?_ Cisco thought, stunned. Then. _Oh. Weather Wizard._ He almost cheered.

“When did he say that?” Mark snapped. “If anything, he’s _mine_ , but you act like Princess Snart gets him by default. Why is that fair?” 

Len turned his head and gave Mardon a cool, serious look. “Explain.”

“It was _my_ idea to take him in the first place.” At a growl from Mick, Mardon amended. “I mean, Mick and mine, and we pulled it off together, too. So that’s my point. Mick gets to do what he likes, but suddenly I’m an asshole if I even look at him.”

“Maybe because you _are_ an asshole,” Cisco muttered under his breath. Lisa gave him a warning squeeze.

Mark was still ranting. “Last year, the Tricksters brought in the Flash and you didn’t say boo. You bought him, fair and square, and I get that. But why does she get him for free?”

“I don’t recall you being so happy about it last year, Mark,” Lisa said, and there was ice in her voice, not unlike her brother. 

“Right, you made a play for the Flash in the basement,” Mick rumbled. “I seem to remember I was gonna make you _burn_ for that.”

Mark glared at Mick and raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, you’re right, I did, and that was wrong. But this _isn’t_ the same thing. The Flash was auctioned off to the highest bidder, and that was Snart. Well, I think we need to sort this Ramon thing out once and for all.”

Okay, this wasn’t any fun anymore. Cisco was shivering in Lisa’s grasp. _No, no, no,_ his mind whispered over and over. This was exactly what Mick was trying to prevent, wasn’t it? But it was backfiring in front of his eyes. Lisa’s hold around him was loosening, and Len looked thoughtful, and everyone else seemed to be nodding.

Barry slipped an arm around him, getting in close. “Cisco, it’s okay. It’s going to be fine. We won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered, but it was little comfort. If all of the Rogues decided together that Cisco was fair game, could the Flash really defeat them all at once?

“Barry…” Cisco whispered, too soft even for Lisa to hear. Then a little louder, so Barry could catch it. “Man, I can’t handle this.”

“Well aren’t you _lucky_ then, Mark,” Len said, cutting through the thundering of Cisco’s heart. “Because I was coming in here to say that the auction is happening tonight, but there’s no time like the present. We know you’re putting Ramon on the chopping block, so everyone else should go get whatever you brought and bring it to the den, so we can get started. Might as well sort this out right now.”

“Wait, what?” Mark said, staring around. “I didn’t—”

“You did,” Mick said, and clapped him unnecessarily hard on the shoulder. “You an’ me, we always meant to auction him off like they did with the Flash last year. You said so.”

Mark stared at him, then glared furiously at Cisco, who tightened his grip on Lisa in the face of that rage. “Well we can bid on our own stuff, right?”

“That’s crazy talk, Mardon. Who bids on their own stuff?” Len drawled, strolling away from him. 

“But it’s not against the rules,” Mardon snarled. Everyone looked at Len, who shrugged.

“It’s not against the rules,” Lisa said, her tone as smug as a cat. “I hope you’ve been counting your pennies, though.”

Mick approached them and slipped his arm around Cisco’s waist, bodily lifting him as he tried to cling to Lisa. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you ready.” 

“No, wait—”

Lisa beamed at him, though the little line between her brows put the lie to her cheerful expression. “It’ll be fine, Cisco. Don’t worry.”

“I _am_ worried,” he protested, though he had no choice but to unclench his fingers from her shirt or he’d wind up ripping it. 

Barry rubbed at the skin under his own collar and pursed his lips. He didn’t say anything aloud, but there was a promise in his eyes to protect him.

None of it really made Cisco feel much better as Mick carried him from the room.


	23. It's Not Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans for the auction are derailed once again. Sorry Mark!

Cisco squirmed until Mick was forced to stop and put him down. He thought for a second he was going to get a reprieve, maybe even some reassurance, but the big man only reset his hands and hoisted Cisco up again, slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. 

“Cisco? What’s the hell’s going on?” 

At Joe’s shout, Cisco craned his neck around to see him coming down the stairs. This was enough to get Mick to stop again, though not to put him down. He turned to face the detective, which meant Cisco couldn’t see anymore.

“What’s wrong?” Mick rumbled. A meaty hand was resting on Cisco’s ass, to brace him. Probably just to brace him.

“What are you doing to Cisco, Rory?” Joe demanded.

“It’s auction time,” Mick said jovially, giving him a double pat. “What’d you bring?”

“What do you mean, auction?” Joe asked, his voice going even frostier. 

“You’re selling him off?” Shawna asked, startled. Cisco hadn’t seen her, so she must have been behind Joe. “Why?”

“Because Mardon’s a total dick,” Cisco put in, loudly. He was starting to feel really self-conscious with everyone talking to his ass.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Shawna retorted. “Doesn’t Lisa want him?”

“Voldie’s refusing to let it go,” Mick growled. “Says he and I brought him for the auction, not as a present for Lise, so we gotta let her bid on him like everyone else.”

“ _What_?” Joe thundered, his voice filling the cavernous lobby. “Oh no, this is not happening. Put him down.”

“Everybody _relax_.” Leonard Snart sauntered into the room, Barry in tow. “There’s no need to shout, Detective. We can all hear you.”

Cisco could feel Joe’s fury like a burning fire, even though he still couldn’t see him. “Mick Rory, I said put him down,” Joe growled. 

“No way. He’s gonna run if I do that,” Mick said, like that was a perfectly reasonable thing to say. 

“Mick, he’s not going to run away,” Barry said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Cisco muttered.

Len walked up to Cisco and caught him by the chin, lifting his head and looking him in the eye. “Ramon’s _not_ gonna run away, because there’s no reason for him to run away. He’s going to _behave_ , and everything is going to be fine.”

Cisco stared into Len’s face, at those cool, blue eyes, and wondered if Len thought that just by stating something to be true, it somehow would be. “Um…”

“Len.” That was Barry, quiet and serious. “Are you sure that Lisa has enough… I mean. You paid a million dollars for me last year.”

Joe and Cisco both squawked. 

“He paid _what—_?” Joe hissed.

“A million bucks?!” Cisco yelped.

Len let go of Cisco and turned to Barry with a smirk. “And you’re worth every penny.” He gestured to Shawna. “Baez, go get your things. This is happening now. And don’t let Detective West get lost.”

Mick started to walk again, turning towards the den, which brought Joe back into view if Cisco craned his neck in just the right way. Joe still looked distinctly unhappy, his brows furrowed. He took a step towards Len and raised a finger. “Now listen to me, Snart—”

At that moment, Peek-a-boo caught Joe by the arm, and they both disappeared, whatever warning he was going to give to Snart left unheard.

“Len,” Barry said, his voice high with concern. “Do we really have to do this?”

Len’s expression tightened as he looked at Barry’s cowled face. “What do you want, Flash? Everyone’s tense and upset, and there are too many do-gooders here for anyone’s comfort. We can do this and risk Mardon winning Cisco fair and square, or we can keep on dealing with Mardon’s shit and risk Cisco, or we can kill one of them now. What do you want me to do?”

“ _One_ of them?” Cisco squeaked. “At least kill the Wizard, not me!”

“No one’s killing anyone,” Barry said sharply. He stared at Len in silence, then looked at Cisco, brows furrowed with distress. 

Cisco’s heart pounded and his mind raced. Len might be acting like a jerk, but he was also right. If they didn’t get this over with, resolve it, then Mark would just keep on trying. 

Mick turned slightly, side-eyeing Len and Barry. “If we weren’t fucking stuck here, then we could just send the problems home and actually _enjoy_ ourselves,” he growled.

 _That’s true,_ Cisco thought. It wasn’t like they could kick him out of the house, or send Cisco home, because of the ghost. The real problem here was that they couldn’t escape the house. 

“Okay Len,” Barry said softly. “I see your point. Cisco?”

“Huh?” Cisco said. He was supposed to be figuring out how to get out of here, but he’d been so distracted. Now that he was really worrying at the problem, he didn’t want to stop. To be honest, he didn’t relish the idea of Lisa buying him like he was a piece of meat any more than anyone else. If he could just come up with something, none of this would have to happen.

Len and Barry exchanged glances. “Okay, I guess we do the auction,” Barry said. “But if this goes wrong, Len, you have to let me take action.”

Len fished a key out of his pocket, then slipped it away again. He made no promise of anything, but he didn’t make a secret of where the key could be found. Maybe that was the best he could do.

Mick grunted and started off towards the den once more. People were coming down the stairs and from every part of the house, carrying paintings, bags, and boxes of every size. The sudden jolt of motion seemed almost to jar something loose inside Cisco’s brain, and he yelped.

“Ouija board!”

He turned his head and spotted Roy carrying a heavy-looking box. “You got a Ouija board, right?”

Roy stared at him in confusion, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose. “Yeah?”

“We’ve got a ghost! Maybe we can contact her, talk to her, using that,” Cisco exclaimed, gesticulating wildly.

Roy scowled at him. “Those boards aren’t _real_ , Ramon. They’re just a party game.”

“But _she’s_ real,” Cisco said. “And we know she can move stuff around. She wants help. Maybe it’ll work.”

“Oh no, you aren’t getting out of this.” Mardon growled and strode towards him, reaching to grab Cisco by the hair. 

Cisco shied away, but Mick moved, turning abruptly. Cisco’s feet swung around and nearly clipped Mark in the jaw. “Snart!” Mick said. “You hearing this?”

“I heard,” Len said, sauntering closer. “I’m interested.”

“I thought we were doing the auction,” Mark complained.

Len shot him a cool glance. “The auction can wait. Or don’t you want to deal with this problem?”

Mark shifted from foot to foot, then sagged, scowling. “Yeah, yeah I guess.”

Len grinned and patted Cisco on the cheek. “Good boy. I knew you’d come through.”

Cisco jerked his head out of the way, but couldn’t go far. “Wait to praise me until after we see if it works. And can Mick please put me down, now?”

Finally, Mick swung him off his shoulder and set him down with a jolt on the floor. Cisco stumbled and clutched at him, disoriented by the headrush. The older man put his head down near Cisco’s and murmured. “Hey. I’ve heard about those squeegie-boards. Is this safe?”

Cisco had to take a moment to collect himself. Mick sounded so serious, and a little nervous, and Cisco didn’t quite dare laugh outright at Heat Wave. He swallowed, and gave Mick a kiss on the cheek. “No, it’s not safe. But I think not doing anything is gonna get me killed, so I might as well try this.”

Len glanced around the den critically. “Let’s move the furniture, give ourselves some room. And did anyone bring any candles?”

“Axel has some in his luggage,” Roy volunteered. Cisco definitely didn’t want to know how he knew that.

“Where _is_ Axel?” Barry asked.

“Or Jesse,” Joe put in, frowning as he entered the room with Shawna at his side. “Haven’t seen either of them since last night.”

There was a long, consternated moment of silence.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Lisa said, sounding very _un_ sure. “Um. I think there’re some tapers in the dining room.” She bustled away to get them.

Len huffed. “Nimbus, go look for them. Everyone else, get in a goddamn circle. Ramon, you’re in the middle with the board.”

Kyle shrugged, strode out of the room and then turned to gas and drifted upstairs. Cisco sat down on the floor in the spot recently vacated by the sofa, and Lisa sat down beside him. Barry made a move towards him, but Mark plunked himself down on Cisco’s other side. 

After some further jockeying, everyone found a place. Len sat across from Cisco, with Barry next to him and Mick on the other side. The rest of the Rogues, along with Harry and Joe, all found places in a big loose circle around the six people sitting around the board. The lights had been shut off and candles placed around the room. There hadn’t been enough candle holders for the whole box of long tapers Lisa had found, so they sacrificed a bunch of tumblers and glasses to the cause.

Kyle Nimbus hadn’t returned, and neither had the Tricksters, but Len nodded and Cisco placed his index fingers on the plastic triangle. Mick, Mark, Len, Lisa, and Barry all did the same. 

Cisco’s heart pounded with nervousness and he felt his palms sweating. Everyone was looking at him expectantly, like he engaged in questionable occult practices all the time. He cleared his throat. “Uh, if you’re here, please give us a sign?” 

They waited.

“Ain’t this thing supposed to move?” Mick rumbled.

“Give it a minute,” Len said, frowning in concentration as he stared at the token as if willing it to move through sheer force of determination.

Mark growled and shifted impatiently, his shoulder brushing against Cisco’s. “I can’t believe we’re wasting our time with this.” Cisco felt gooseflesh start on both of his arms and watched the bumps rise in a wave down from his elbows to his wrists. 

“You’d rather waste time tormenting me?” he snapped without thinking. “That’s what you’d rather spend your time on?”

“More fun than this shit,” Mark replied.

“Both of you, shut up,” Len snarled. Barry’s eyes were wide behind his mask.

Mark shifted forward, and the temperature dropped precipitously. “You’re soft, Snart. Don’t try to deny it. The Flash might as well’s got your balls in the palm of his hand—”

The triangle suddenly jerked and quivered beneath their fingers. Everyone yelped in surprise, and Cisco actually felt a pull as it lurched away from him, as if his fingers were glued to the little wedge of plastic. The word ‘yes’ was briefly highlighted in the window at the centre of the planchet, and then it was off again, moving so quickly Cisco couldn’t follow.

“What the fuck?” Mark yelled. 

“Shut the fuck up, Mardon,” Len snapped again, his blue eyes tracking the triangle as it whipped across the board. “L-E-T, damnit… I think it was M-E-”

“Let me out,” Barry said. Of course he’d have been able to follow it effortlessly. “It’s repeating the same message over and over.”

“Where are you?” Cisco asked. “If we know where you’re trapped we can find you.” His hands were freezing. The plastic was so cold it burned. Frost moved slowly across the board like spreading fingers.

There was another lurch as the triangle changed direction again. Everyone was silent as it spelled out another message, Barry’s lips moving as he followed each letter. The token stopped abruptly. “It says, ‘Everywhere’,” he said finally, confused.

Everyone glanced at each other. Cisco’s mind raced. Everywhere? What did that mean?

“We’ll try to find you,” he said helplessly. “What else can you tell us? Anything might help. Please, help us get to you, and we’ll help you get free.”

The token quivered under his fingers. It began to move, sliding more slowly towards the ‘S’ and stopping. 

Then the whole world seemed to lurch as the house shook with an explosion. The connection between Cisco’s fingers and the plastic token broke abruptly and he fell into Mick, feeling Mark slam into him from the other side, driving the air from him. His ears popped, and another loud ‘crump’ shook the house on its foundations. And another.

 _Are those bombs?_ Cisco thought. Reality swirled around him, and all of the candles blew out, plunging them all into a darkness punctuated with screams and the hiss and crackle of flames in another part of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm definitely on track to finish the story by Christmas! I actually just have one more chapter to write, and I plan to release a chapter a day until it's done. Merry Christmas!


	24. We’re In This Together, Sweetie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I ain't afraid of no ghost.

Lisa woke to silence, and darkness. She opened her eyes, blinked up at nothingness, and wondered for a moment if this was what death felt like.

No, death wouldn’t feel like cold porcelain tile under her back. Besides, now that her eyes were adjusting, she could see a faint glow like moonlight, filtering down from above. 

Something touched her palm and she nearly screamed. What little sound escaped her throat was strangled and soft, like a frightened moan, and swallowed by the terrified yelp that came from that direction. She recognized that voice.

“Cisco?”

“Lisa?” Fingers touched her hand again, exploratory, and she seized them. They held hands for a moment. Lisa could feel Cisco’s hand trembling, his fingers ice cold, but alive.

“Lenny?” she called out, but there was no reply. She sat up and looked around. She and Cisco were alone, lying sprawled in the front hall of the house. All the lights were off, and the only illumination was the weak glow that filtered through the thick ice that covered the windows. Cisco still held her hand tightly as he also sat up, taking in their surroundings with equal confusion.

“What happened?” he asked. His free hand rose to rub his neck under the collar he wore, like it irritated him. “How’d we get back out here?”

“Can’t say,” Lisa said. “The last thing I remember was… I thought I heard a bomb go off.”

“You think that was the ghost?” Cisco offered. 

“I would have assumed James and Axel,” Lisa admitted. “But now I don’t know.”

“Why would the Tricksters set off a bomb _here_?”

Lisa raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you met them?”

Cisco reddened. “Never mind.”

They got to their feet and stood close to each other. The air was frigid, but still. Despite the recent bombing, she couldn’t smell smoke or hear the crackle of flames. No matter how hard Lisa strained, she couldn’t sense any signs of life or movement. “Where the hell is everybody?”

Cisco shrugged helplessly. “I guess we’d better look for them.”

She glanced sidelong at him. He was shivering and still looked pale and forlorn. This whole situation had to be putting such a strain on him, the poor thing. But at least maybe she could keep his spirits up. She put on a mischievous smile and leaned closer to him. “I don’t know, maybe this is our chance. I’ve been waiting to be alone with you all week.”

To her surprise, he turned his head away and hunched his shoulders, though he didn’t let go of her hand. “Ha, yeah. Me too.” 

The forced tone struck her like an arrow, and it surprised her how hard it hit. What was going on? He’d been pretty clear with his signals up to now. 

“What, were you wishing Mick were here?” she asked. She had meant it as a joke, a bit of light teasing, but she heard an unintended note of jealousy leaking into her tone, and immediately regretted saying anything at all.

Cisco started and glanced at her, his eyes wide. “What? No. I’m sorry, Lisa. I really, _really_ do want to be with you… I’m just worried about everyone.”

The worst part was, she totally believed him. That guileless look in his eyes always disarmed the paranoia and mistrust that her upbringing had trained in her. She knew this sort of thing was why Lenny had fallen so hard for the Flash, and here she was, falling.

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’m kidding, sweetie. Come on, let’s go.”

Cisco smiled, but Lisa noticed that the smile vanished the moment he looked away, replaced with a brooding, discontented expression. Something still wasn’t right, and it wasn’t just the fact that everyone had disappeared. Cisco wasn’t simply worried about everyone, or about their own safety. It was something else, and despite his reassurances, Lisa sensed that it had something to do with her.

Well, if he wouldn’t tell her, then it was his problem to worry about for now. Nothing much she could do about that, and finding Lenny was the priority.

They headed into the den, but it was deserted. As impossible as it might be, Lisa had thought perhaps the force of the blast had pushed herself and Cisco into the front hall, but if that were true, the whole room would be devastated. Instead, it was empty. “Where is everybody?” Lisa said, then raised her voice. “Lenny! Mick!”

Cisco peeked behind the sofa, and then looked into the kitchen. “Were we passed out longer than we thought? Maybe they’re all wherever the Tricksters are.”

Lisa glanced over at Cisco, eyebrow rising. “You think they stepped over our unconscious bodies on their way there?”

Cisco shrugged helplessly, then sagged. “Yeah, no. Maybe some of them would, but not the Flash or your brother. We should keep looking.”

They walked out of the den together, headed for the stairs, but the moment Lisa’s foot touched the staircase, she felt a strange lurch in her stomach and everything swirled around her. She gasped at the vertigo and grasped Cisco’s hand again as her vision went dark and sparkly.

“Oh my _god_ , you are so right!” A burst of laughter greeted Lisa as her vision cleared. “Did you see when he touched his shoulder like that? My shipper goggles are never off. Next season’s gonna be so _great_.”

Lisa blinked. She was sitting in the back seat of a sedan, staring at the back of a blond teenager she didn’t recognize. The dark-haired girl in the passenger seat was continuing to wax philosophical about the chemistry between two men in her favourite television show, to the blond’s obvious delight. Cisco was beside her, his fingers still entwined with hers.

Lisa shifted forward in her seat. A strange pull at her neck made her look down. There was a heavy gold locket around her neck that she’d never seen before. She grasped it and turned it over in her fingers, trying to pry it open, but the catch was stuck. Frustrated, she let it fall and glared over at the two people in the front seats of the vehicle.

“Excuse me, who are you?” Lisa demanded. “Where are we going?” 

“Don’t you think he’s cute, too, Melissa?” The passenger twisted around in her seat, holding up her smart phone towards Lisa. On the screen was a picture of some actor, clearly a screenshot from the show. 

“My name isn’t Melissa, it’s Lisa,” Lisa said. 

The girl beamed and turned to face forward, flicking through the photos. “It was really nice of you to invite us up to your chalet, Mel,” she went on.

“Yeah, thanks,” said the boy in the driver’s seat. 

“We’d better do shots,” added the girl brightly.

“Hello?” said Lisa, her impatience mounting by the moment.

“Come on, Sara,” said the boy, laughing. “You always want to do shots.”

“Don’t be a downer, Dick,” Sara retorted.

“ _Excuse me_!” Lisa snapped. “Will someone answer me, please!”

“Lisa.” Cisco squeezed her fingers to get her attention while the two teens in the front continued to chat, apparently oblivious. “I don’t think they can hear us.”

“I _got that_ , Cisco,” Lisa said, rolling her eyes. Cisco flinched slightly. “What the hell is going on here?”

“None of this is real, Lisa,” he said sharply. “None of it. Maybe the explosion wasn’t real. Maybe nothing has been real since we arrived at the house. All I know is, everything since we woke up just now is _definitely_ not real.”

Lisa froze, reviewing the last fifteen minutes in her mind. He was right. Nothing had made sense since the explosion, and it could be just like what Joe West and Shawna had experienced.

“How do I know you’re real, then?” she asked. She had meant it as a joke, a bit of light banter to get past the moment, but it came out low and breathless. She could cope with just about anything, but this was Cisco’s kind of thing. You didn’t get possessed by ghosts or hallucinate teenagers when you were robbing museums and sticking up banks, or running cons in bars and fleecing guys with too much libido and not enough sense. This just wasn’t in her wheelhouse, no matter how handily she manipulated the metahumans in the Rogues.

Cisco squeezed her hand and shook his head, withdrawing his hand and settling into the seat to watch the world pass by the window. “You don’t. I don’t even know if you’re real.”

Lisa watched him, feeling something cold settle into the pit of her stomach. Once again, she felt like something was wrong - something beyond being menaced by some kind of hostile ghost that was psychically attacking Cisco over and over again. He was angry - angry with _her_. 

“I’m real,” she said softly. Urgently. “We’re in this together, sweetie.”

He flinched again, visibly, and didn’t turn immediately to look at her. “Yeah.” He reached out, glancing at her for a fraction of a second, and then away, his expression wooden. His fingers grasped hers again and squeezed. “It’s okay, Lisa. We’re gonna get out of this. I’ll figure something out.”

 _What’s that, some kind of heroic platitude? Am I the damsel in distress now?_ Lisa thought, but before she could say anything further, the car made a sharp right turn. They were headed up the hill towards the house, and she realized now that this scene they were watching like ghosts, was the same trip they had made up to the house before the party. Even now, they were pulling up in front, and her vision was getting foggy again.

Desperately, she clung onto Cisco’s hand as the world swirled around. She had no idea what would happen if they let go.

~ ~ ~

Cisco felt the dizziness overwhelm him again, and knew that the carnival ride was only moving on to the next exciting installment. Or. Whatever mixed metaphor his brain was throwing up this time.

It felt a little like Vibing, only he didn’t have any control over it. Which was a _lot_ like Vibing, come to think of it. 

As they were pulled through the latest transition from scene to scene, he hung tightly onto Lisa’s hand, feeling her squeeze with a desperation that communicated fear more than he thought Lisa would be comfortable with. He could relate. Though he wasn’t really happy with her right now the last thing he wanted to do was get separated.

Once again, a burst of laughter greeted them as his vision cleared.

He and Lisa were now standing hand in hand in the den at the mansion. The tree was lit, casting a colourful glow over the entire room that warred with the flicker of the warring fire. A dozen young people mingled, drinks and finger foods in their hands, laughing and joking. Cisco didn’t recognize anyone - no, there were two he recognized: the two people from the car. 

No one seemed to notice them. People brushed past, talking and laughing, as if Cisco and Lisa weren’t there.

He glanced at Lisa, standing at his side. He knew he’d been acting awkward towards her since the Ouija board. Actually, it had been since she started flirting with him after the explosion. When she’d made that playful advance, it had only reminded him that an hour ago Lisa was perfectly fine with buying him like an object. Now he just couldn’t shake that thought - did Lisa just see him as an object to be taken? Bought and sold?

She turned her head to meet his gaze and he looked away before he could stop himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her expression fall, and then a surge of irritation rising on her face.

“Why are you mad at me?” she demanded. “None of this is my fault.”

Cisco blinked and forced himself to meet her gaze, his brows drawn together in confusion. “I’m not— Lisa, I’m not mad at you.” He wasn’t. He was confused, and upset, nervous about what might happen and who Lisa might really be. But none of it was Lisa’s fault. She hadn’t been the one to decide to kidnap him. She’d done everything she could to keep him safe. It wasn’t her fault if she had a different way of looking at other people than he did.

Her doubt was obvious in her eyes. She didn’t believe him. “Then what is it?” She paused, mouth closing and pursing together. For a moment, something vulnerable flickered in her eyes. As Cisco watched her, he saw the exact moment when she realized she was floundering, and then, without missing a beat, she pasted on a smile and let go of his hand, sliding her arm around his shoulders instead as she leaned in close. “We finally get a few minutes together, without my brother around. I’d have thought…” 

Bad call. Now, he _was_ pissed. 

“You really think this is the time for that, Lisa?” he said, squirming away from her and breaking the hold. “Let go of me. I’m not a toy!”

She pulled away, brows drawing down. “I know you’re not, honey. I was just… I wasn’t serious.”

“Well good!” Cisco was actually shouting at her. Lisa drew back, eyes widening. People chattered away around them, utterly oblivious. “Because I can handle being treated this way by Mick. He’s a total psycho! I thought you actually _liked_ me, but all I am is a game to you!” 

“That’s not…” 

“Isn’t it?” Cisco felt his hands clenched into fists, his hands trembling. He jabbed his fingers at the collar around his neck. “Lisa, be honest with me. Do you think this is okay? Do you _like_ this? Do you even see me as an equal?”

Lisa folded her arms and tossed her hair, the emotional walls closing around her. “All I’ve done is try to protect you,” she said through gritted teeth. “If you don’t like my style - that’s fine. The collar comes off when I say it does, and not before, got it?” 

Cisco felt the words like a slap. He had no response, glaring at her with fury.

And before he could come up with a response that wouldn’t make things even worse, she turned on her heel. “I need some air,” she announced, and she walked away.

“Wait, Lisa!” Cisco called after her, panic rising. If they got separated—

Even as he started to follow her, a low rumbling sound attracted his attention. He looked around, and saw that everyone around him was doing the same thing. A few people pointed towards the windows, and Cisco looked.

Central City was too far away to be much more than a glow on the horizon, but even from here he could see the fireball rising into the sky, and a dark wave heading towards them. “No way…” he whispered. He knew exactly what this was.

He was seeing the dark matter explosion from when STAR Labs blew up.

An instant later, the wave hit. The house shook, and everyone around Cisco fell, screaming in surprise and pain. Every decoration in the room, and ornament on the tree, exploded.

 _Just like before,_ Cisco thought, even as the world swirled around him, and he fell into darkness again.


	25. Holy Shit. I’m Amazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tricksters are in trouble~

The cold whipped up to surround Cisco like a slap in the face. He ran without thinking, tearing quickly forward with the snow sucking at his shoes and branches whipping at his face. A wall of hedge rose in front of him and he was forced to turn sideways, realizing only now that he was running through the hedge maze outside. 

The walls seemed to close in around him, branches reaching for him like grasping fingers. His heart was pounding, his breathing harsh, his throat hurting from panting as if the cold air ripped at him as it was sucked down his throat.

"Lisa!" he called. "Flash!"

He turned again, and saw sunlight. He made for it and burst out of the narrow passage. He looked up, hoping to see the house up ahead, but saw an old, overgrown fountain and some stone benches. He had only made it into the central open area at the middle of the maze. 

Cisco paused and struggled to claw his way out of the panic that had gripped him. A gust of wind cut him straight to the bone and he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans - not exactly appropriate outdoor gear.

"I need to get inside," he gasped, and turned in a circle, trying to figure out which way the house was. The walls rose higher than he remembered around him, impossibly monstrous. They seemed to grow higher and thicker even as he watched, bowing over him like the hedges were going to meet in the middle, forming a roof of foliage and cutting out the sun.

"O...okay," he whispered to himself. "This isn't normal."

Another gust of wind screamed through the maze like a cry for help. It struck him like a fist, and he hunched down, tightening his arms ineffectually around his shaking body and resisting the urge to scream in response. 

"Help me," he groaned, not knowing if anyone could hear him. His ice-cold fingers bit into his own bare arms. 

He crouched there for he didn't know how long, shivering and shuddering as the darkness closed over him and the wind battered him with icy knives. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew if he didn't move, he'd go hypothermic. He needed to run, to warm himself up, but as he raised his head and looked between the frigid curtains of his dark hair he saw nothing but tangled leaves and branches in every direction. Even the passage he’d come from seemed to have disappeared. 

There was nowhere to run.

 _I need to get out of here,_ he thought. _Come on, Cisco. Move._ But his body just didn't seem to want to obey him.

"Please!" he croaked through cracked lips. "Melissa." Because that was what the girl in the car had called Lisa, right? "Your name is Melissa, isn't it? You have to stop this! You have to let me go, if you want me to help you."

Hands grabbed him, and he screamed, flailing in his fright.

"Cisco? Hey, it's okay. Wake up! It's just me."

Cisco paused at the sound of a familiar voice and opened his eyes, blinking up at the masked face of his best friend. Barry had hold of his arms and was kneeling over him in concern. 

"B--" Cisco checked himself, glanced around. He realized now he was lying on his back on the carpet in the den. Though there was a roaring fire only a few inches away, and he was surrounded by people, his body continued to shiver as if he was covered in snow. But even now, he felt a prickling in his bare arms as his skin began to warm.

"Flash?" he croaked softly. "What happened?"

Barry's eyes flickered with relief, and he slid his arm around Cisco's shoulders, helping him up to a seated position. "That's what we're trying to find out."

There was a distinct smell of burned wood and smoke that seemed to be too thick and cloying to be accounted for by the fire in the fireplace. Also, all of the Rogues seemed to be shouting at each other. The Ouija board had been overturned at some point while Cisco was unconscious, and the pointer lay some distance away. Cisco didn't remember how it had happened. 

Len was on his feet, facing down the Mist and Weather Wizard - no, it seemed like they weren't actually arguing with each other. They were just really, really upset about something. Mark's hands were closed into shaking fists and Nimbus was looking less distinct than usual, a greenish smoke rising ominously from his shoulders.

"I'll kill them!" Mark shouted.

"No, you won't," Len said in a much more measured voice. "Because I get first dibs."

"Where's Lisa?" Cisco asked.

"I'm here, baby." Cisco turned at the voice and saw Lisa only inches away on his other side. She looked pinched and exhausted, her brows drawn together with anger and worry, which didn't seem relieved by the look of him up and awake.

"What happened?" Cisco asked.

Lisa shook her head, but Barry opened his mouth first. "I think--"

Before he could tell Cisco what he thought, a bear stomped through the doorway.

Okay, it wasn't actually a bear. It was Mick Rory, but he was roaring just like one. 

Mick's clothes were singed and his face was blackened with soot. He carried something over his shoulder, and as he stepped through the doorway he threw the bundle onto the floor non-too-gently. The bundle screamed and flailed.

It was Axel. His coat had been torn into strips and used to bind his hands and feet.

"Now, Mr. Rory," James Jesse swept into the room in Mick's wake, looking somewhat singed himself, his hair sticking up in all directions - which wasn't actually that unusual for him. "I have to take exception to how you're treating my son."

Mick whirled around with another roar and punched James in the face. The older man dropped like a stone, his nose leaking blood, and didn't stir.

Axel covered his face with his arms and shrieked with terror. "Please! Don't hit me again!"

Mick stepped over him and walked towards Len. "They were setting more goddamn bombs - said the house’d have to let us go this way. I put out the fire like you said. It coulda taken out half the wing if we let it burn longer." Mick looked somewhat put out that it hadn't happened that way.

"Pity they didn't burn up," Len said unsympathetically, eyeing Axel sidelong with an expression of distaste curling his lip.

Mick blinked in shock. "You _said_ \--"

"I know." Len waved his hand. "I told you to put out the fire and bring them back here. But there's a part of me that wishes you'd failed." Mick grumbled something indistinct and plunked himself down in front of the fire.

Mark turned to Len. "Well?"

"I'm thinking."

While Len was thinking, Cisco squirmed. He sort of assumed that Snart was going to wind up executing the Tricksters at the end of that thought, and that expectation was making his stomach do flip-flops. On some level, killing them was probably, objectively, not a _bad_ idea. The world would almost certainly be a better place without James Jesse in it. But Cisco was definitely not comfortable with sitting around and eating popcorn while it happened. And he had no idea how Barry was going to react, either.

So to distract himself, he turned to Lisa, desperate for something else to think about. "Lisa," he whispered. 

She sat next to him, gazing up at her brother, hands resting on her thighs and her feet tucked under her. At her name, she turned to him, wariness flickering in her eyes. "Yes, Cisco?"

"Do you, uh... do you remember something weird happening after the explosion?"

She looked away, lips pursing. "Yes."

Cisco wasn't sure if he was relieved or unhappy. He was relieved because it would have been super creepy if he'd been talking to a Lisa who wasn't real. But apparently she remembered him yelling at her. He shifted from side to side and then pulled away from Barry's embrace, reaching out to take her hand. "Lisa I'm--"

She turned towards him. "I'm _sorry_ , Cisco," she said firmly, and too-quickly, like she was trying to get something out of the way before she changed her mind. "I promise, I _don't_ think of you as a toy. I _like_ you, and that scares the hell out of me." Her eyes flicked to Barry, and all around quickly, as if assessing who else might be listening. Barry's jaw was almost on the floor, but he said nothing. Cisco had no idea what to say.

Lisa's voice dropped to a whisper. "I like you, Cisco. You're not like anyone I've ever dated. I hope you don't end up hating me for all this. All I wanted to do was protect you."

Cisco's throat constricted, but at the apology, he relaxed for pretty much the first time since he arrived. "Lisa, I--"

Lisa gave his hand a squeeze, but in the next moment she was up and walking away. Cisco started to his feet, opening his mouth to call after her, taking a step to follow, but a cold hand closed around his bicep, and he was yanked off-balance. Shocked by the unexpected attack, Cisco turned and looked up into Mark Marden's grim visage.

Mark's lips spread in a cruel smile. "Well, _I_ know what we should do, Snart. We should get on with the main event. And after we've auctioned this one to the highest bidder, we can take bids on who gets to decide what happens with the Tricksters for trying to blow us all up." He paused, and glanced around with too much casualness. "Too bad Lisa decided not to stick around. Guess she doesn't want to take part."

Cisco looked around wildly. Len's expression was thunderous, but he hadn't objected yet. Mick was ignoring all of them, sitting close to the fire and grumbling. Barry jumped to his feet as well, but he looked uncertain. Cisco knew by now if Barry spoke up, it would only blow back on Snart, and then they'd all be in danger. 

He couldn't ask Barry to stick his neck out again, or expect that any of the Rogues would. He was on his own in this.

Mark began to drag him over to the area that had earlier been cleared for the auction. Cisco nearly tripped over his own feet as he was pulled inexorably forward.

"Here we go," Mark said. He leaned closer, whispering in his ear. "You are gonna pay for locking me up all those months, Ramon. One way or another, I'll make sure of it." He straightened. "On your knees, kid." 

Cisco stared up at the dangerous metahuman, his heart thudding hard in his chest with terror. And in that moment, he made a decision. 

"You know what?" he said. His own voice sounded so calm as it came out, that he almost didn't recognize it. "I don't think so."

Cisco planted a hand in the centre of Mark's chest, and shoved as hard as he could. 

The portal opened up right behind the metahuman, and swallowed him up before he could react. The shocked yell Mark gave at the shove was abruptly cut off, as the portal closed tight. Mark Mardon was gone.

Everyone reacted at once. The room exploded with shouts and questions, as all of the Rogues simultaneously realized that Cisco wasn’t just a metahuman, but that he actually had _power_. Len just stood there for a few seconds before shock give way to amusement. As the leader of the Rogues threw his head back and began to laugh, some others didn't seem to think it was quite so funny. The Mist and Peek-a-boo both looked furious. 

Rainbow Raider started forward, and Cisco raised his hands threateningly, though he was careful to keep his eyes averted slightly. "You sure you want to do that?" he asked, with more bravado than he felt. Roy's eyes widened and he stopped a few feet away from Cisco, anger giving way to uncertainty. 

"Since when could you do that?" Raider demanded. 

Cisco smirked and spread his fingers, but didn't lower his hands. "Since when were you a dick? About that long."

The room went quiet, broken only by a quiet snickering. Cisco glanced over and saw Hartley collapsed on Harry's shoulder, tears streaming from his eyes as he laughed with his hand desperately covering his mouth to suppress the sound. 

Len took a few steps forward, striding over to Cisco with just as much swagger as ever. "Well, well. Our Francisco is ever full of surprises. Where did you send Mark?"

"Uh." Cisco hadn't been paying close attention, just reacting on instinct. "Oh, you know." There was a short silence, and Cisco heard an indistinct yelling. He swallowed and pointed upwards.

Len turned to Shawna and raised an eyebrow. "Go look, would you? I think he's on the roof."

"Do I have to? He's probably not going to make trouble up there." Shawna rolled her eyes and patted Joe's shoulder, who was seated on the sofa next to her. "Stay put." Then she vanished in a puff of smoke.

Len returned his gaze to Cisco. "Now what?"

Cisco hesitated, looking around. Wait a second. Did they think...? Were they really…? 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lisa step back into the room and lean against the doorway, watching with an inscrutable expression. Peek-a-boo popped back into the room with a snow-covered and shivering Mark Mardon in tow. Cisco straightened up and lowered his hands to his sides, curling them into fists to hide the fact that they were starting to shake. He planted his feet and looked at Len, raising his chin with a confidence he didn't feel. 

"’Now what’ is this. We're done taking this crap from you guys," Cisco said clearly. He reached up and unfastened the collar around his neck, letting it fall to the floor with a thunk. "You wanted the Flash and I to come for Christmas. Well then, you treat us like the family we are, or we're outta here."

Jaws hit the floor all around, but Captain Cold simply blinked lazily in assent. He jerked a thumb in a general direction that appeared to encompass Harry and Joe at once. "We didn't invite them."

"Tough. They're family, too. And no more auctioning people. Axel and James can get locked up for now, if they won’t behave," Cisco said. His heart pounded and his palms were sweating. This was _not_ going to work.

But Len just nodded. "Fair enough."

 _It’s actually working. Holy shit. I’m amazing. I’m negotiating with the Rogues._ Cisco felt himself break into a grin despite himself, confidence surging. He gestured towards Lisa recklessly. "And I am sleeping in Lisa's room tonight." Instantly, he reddened, and looked at her quickly, eyes widening. "I-I mean. If. If you don't mind."

Lisa laughed, covering her mouth, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Oh honey... _I_ don't mind."

Suddenly, Len was beside him. He loomed, his hand closing on Cisco's shoulder. "Don't push your luck, Cisco. Anything else you just _have_ to have?"

Cisco had to swallow twice before he could speak again. "Yeah. I need everyone to look for a gold locket. It's got to be somewhere in this house."


	26. I Was Hoping You'd Say That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the moment you've all been waiting for, kiddos!

"You want us to find a locket?" Cisco watched as Len turned away dramatically and whipped his gaze around at the furious Rogues and bemused Team Flash members. "You got it. All right, everyone, you heard the man." 

The moment Snart turned away, Cisco felt his knees threaten to buckle. Somehow, he had taken on an entire room full of Rogues all by himself and hadn't gotten killed or even maimed. Most of the Rogues who were still conscious looked at him with the same hostility as before, so maybe the moment of pain had just been pushed back, but he would take it.

Mick got up from his seat at the fire and turned to him. "Heard you want to change our sleeping arrangements."

Cisco felt his heart give a big, guilty thump. _Oh no. I forgot about Mick._ "Uh..."

"'Bout time you stood up to Leonard," Mick went on, stepping past him. He seemed unconcerned, though he did cuff Cisco on the shoulder hard enough to stagger him. Cisco wasn't sure if that was meant to be encouraging or not. "Go get 'em, tiger." Encouraging, apparently.

 _This… might be... good?_ Cisco thought, dazed.

Mick picked up Axel by the scruff of his neck in one hand, and James Jesse in the same manner in the other. "Hey Snart," he yelled. Snart was in the midst of barking orders, sending the Rogues scattering out of every exit, but he paused when Mick shouted, and looked at him. "What'd you want me to do with these two?" Mick asked.

"Lock them up somewhere," Len said, waving a hand. "And make sure they don't have anything explosive or flammable on them. I want to get out of here just as badly as they do, but _I_ don't want to burn to death while trying to do it."

Mick began to drag the Tricksters out. "Clothes are flammable," he said fiendishly, and then disappeared.

Cisco drew a breath. If he tried to walk on his wobbly knees, would he actually fall on his face? Maybe. 

No. He could do this. 

He took a step, then another. Barry had already whirled away, disappearing in a blur to presumably go looking for the locket. Harry and Hartley marched away together, and Joe remained where he was, either unwilling to join the search, or not wanting to leave before he was sure Cisco was all right. He was looking at Cisco with what appeared to be pride, as well as concern, and that warmed Cisco all the way down to his toes. 

Everyone else headed out of the room, scattering to the four corners of the house on Leonard Snart's orders. 

Except Lisa, who still stood in the doorway, arms crossed. 

Cisco tried not to look at Lisa, which meant he was looking at Joe. The older man got to his feet, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. "That was...very impressive, Cisco."

Cisco flushed. "Thanks, Joe."

Lisa cleared her throat, looking pointedly at Joe. Joe glanced around, startled, then cleared his throat. "Ah. I'll just... take a look around the kitchen. Be safe, Cisco." He turned away and walked out of the room. 

Finally they were alone again. Cisco brought himself to look at Lisa, wringing his hands. "Are you... are we... okay?"

Lisa straightened up and walked towards him, arms still crossed over her body in a protective posture. When they stood face to face, she reached up and fingered Cisco's neck, touching a spot that had been rubbed raw by the collar. "You tell me, baby," she said, something oddly vulnerable in her eyes. 

"Yeah." Cisco reached up, caught her hand and squeezed it in both of his. He smiled and pressed his lips to her fingertips, smiling up at her over them. "Lisa, I'm sorry I got so angry about it. I know you were just trying to protect me, and it wasn't your fault. I just can't do this unless we're equals, you know?"

Lisa smiled prettily and leaned closer, stealing a kiss. It took his breath away, and he was flushed by the time it ended, their hands still clasped together and trapped between their bodies. "We are equals. At least, as much as it's possible for anyone to be _my_ equal," she teased, and tossed her hair haughtily, striking a superior pose.

She dropped the pose almost instantly and put her hands on her hips. "Now then, you said we needed to find a locket. By any chance, is that the locket that I was wearing in that car memory/hallucination/thing?"

Cisco grinned. "Exactly. Have any ideas?"

"In fact. I just might. Come, Cisco Ramon, up to my boudoir." Lisa winked and grabbed his hand, and Cisco was more than happy to follow her.

They stepped into the lobby, hand in hand. "So," Lisa said casually, as they started up the stairs. "If you could open a portal whenever you wanted, why didn't you use it to just escape any time before now?"

"Uh, well first of all, I wouldn't run away and leave Joe and Harry," Cisco said, blinking. Then he leaned a little closer towards her. "And... if I left, I'd lose my chance to spend some time with you."

Lisa beamed and rewarded him with another kiss - just as planned. "You're so sweet."

As they walked down the hall together towards Lisa's room, Cisco glanced at her with his best attempt at a suspicious expression. "Hey now, you don't have any ulterior motives in bringing me up here, do you?"

Lisa grinned wickedly. "What if I did?"

Cisco's heart gave a thump, and his body flushed with heat at the sight of her expression. "Then I'd say, maybe we should hurry. I don't know how long Melissa's going to wait for us if we get distracted." With a shared laugh, they broke into a run, pounding past a startled Roy, who called after them with annoyance. 

The house shook, just once, but settled. A warning, perhaps.

~ ~ ~

It took only seconds for Barry to make his first pass through the house. He didn't search closely for the locket that Cisco was looking for - didn't go through any drawers or anything like that. He figured that everyone could help with that, and he didn't want to start rooting through Mick Rory's underwear drawer without a really good reason.

By the time he made his way back to the main floor of the house, people were emerging, walking in all directions, clearly with marching orders from Len to search for the locket. He could still hear Len barking orders in the den.

Barry hung back, sliding into the main floor powder room and closing the door almost all the way so he could see through the gap. Harry and Hartley emerged together and headed down the west wing, and then a poofing sound just outside told him that Shawna was off to search the grounds. It seemed like ever since the ice had receded that they were allowed outside, just perhaps not permitted to leave the grounds.

He wondered why this locket was so important. Presumably, Cisco would tell them once they had found it.

The next moment he was distracted from his musings as he saw Len emerge from the den. He flashed forward, grabbing him up and speeding upstairs, into the library.

Len clung to him as he stopped and put him down. "Ah-- that was. Abrupt," Len said, blinking at him with bemusement. "What's up, Barry? Did you find the locket?"

"No, I... not yet." Barry flushed. "I'll look some more in a second. How's Cisco?"

Len arched a brow. His fingers were curled in Barry's sweater, cold against Barry's heated skin, as usual. "He looked fine last I saw. I assume Lisa wants a moment. Problem?"

"No." Barry paused. His thoughts were scattered, and he took a moment to draw a breath. Then he smiled. "No problem. Thank you, Len."

The older man stared at him. "Barry, you're confusing me. Can you clue me in? _Why_ are you thanking me?"

Barry's smile widened, while Len just looked at him with utter bafflement. When Cisco had stood up to Mark, Barry had been sure they were all screwed. Over and over again, he had seen that when he rebelled in front of the Rogues in even the tiniest of ways, it was Len who stood to lose for it. He believed - they all did - that Len had to maintain a tight control, had to look strong, couldn't take crap from anyone. Particularly a member of Team Flash.

Yet Cisco had stood up to Mark Mardon - stood up to _Captain Cold_ \- and Len had let him do it. It had to have taken a lot of strength for Cisco to do that. But Barry also knew that Len had taken a significant risk.

And he'd done it, so Cisco and Lisa could be happy.

"I love you," Barry said, and then laughed as Len flinched visibly at the word. For now, at least, he didn't mind that Len didn't return the sentiment aloud - his faith in the other man had been affirmed.

"Barry, for heaven's sake. Would you _please_ tell me--"

Barry silenced him with a kiss. Their lips explored one another for long moments, unhurried. Deeply. Passionately affirming the things that Len just couldn't say. Once, the door creaked open, and Barry heard Roy Bivolo swearing as he slammed the door closed, but they only grinned and then Len's tongue was in Barry's mouth once again.

Finally, they came up for air. Len rested his head against Barry's cowl-covered forehead, and breathed out a long sigh. "Right. Fine." His fingers rubbed up and down Barry's arms. "Do you want me to take the collar off?"

Barry straightened up and searched Len's expression. It was, as it often was, completely inscrutable, but Barry had the impression that Len really would do it. He had only to ask.

And that meant, he didn't need to.

He smiled. "Nah."

Len grinned mischievously. "I was hoping you'd say that."

They kissed again, and Len's hands skimmed up under Barry's sweater. They were supposed to be looking for the locket, but... it could wait a few more minutes.

~ ~ ~

Lisa and Cisco burst through the door into Lisa's room. Lisa's room was a match to Mick's, though dressed up differently. There was a profusion of makeup and hair- and skin-care products on the dresser, for instance, and a thick woolen blanket draped over the bed that she had to have brought along with her.

The blanket was soft and warm under Cisco's back as they hit the bed, Lisa climbing on top of him eagerly as they kissed with rough abandon. 

Cisco skimmed his fingers up Lisa's sides and then tugged up her sweater. She bit his lower lip, and he yelped, jerking his hands away as if they'd been burned.

"Oh no, Cisco," she said, straightening up. "Don't you get nervous on me, now. I like to bite." She pulled her sweater up over her head and tossed it away, leaving her in a lacy purple bra, and grinned at him sweetly. 

Cisco reddened as he realized his mistake. "So--" No, sorry was definitely the wrong thing to say. Instead, he reached up, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging. "Then come back down here."

She wriggled against his hold, her expression turning mischievous and rebellious. Oh god, she was totally going to ruin him forever. He drew a breath, and rolled them, settling between her thighs and reaching for the clasp of her bra. 

He didn't make it. She bucked at him, squirming, and they wrestled for long minutes as he fought to stay on top, and she tried - he thought, without _too_ much determination - to throw him off. He grabbed for her wrists and she eluded him. He pushed up higher, seeking to weigh her down with his body, and she nearly managed to roll them over again. 

Finally he just kissed her, hard, and she hummed with pleasure, settling underneath him with a distinct air of satisfaction. 

"You minx," he muttered against her lips. She just giggled and slid a hand between them, cupping his groin.

"If you don't want it enough," she teased. "You can just go ahead and leave."

He unhooked her bra, somehow managing to focus enough to do it while their tongues tangled and he mostly concentrated on tasting every inch of her mouth. Daringly, he broke the kiss, and she immediately tensed as if to start the wrestling match all over again, but he kissed her throat and she melted with a groan that didn't seem forced.

Okay. Okay, he was getting the hang of driving Lisa wild. Awesome.

He left off giving her a hickey just long enough to pull her bra away, and went right back to attacking a spot just at the join of her neck and shoulder that made her moan and squirm with delight. His hands cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples under his thumbs, and then he began to work his way down, latching onto one of her nipples, and worrying it between his teeth. She gasped and arched her back.

"Oh yes... _yes_ , keep doing that," she purred.

Her hands were no less busy. She tugged at his jeans, undoing the fly and slipping a hand inside to grope him. He groaned against the soft flesh of her breast and flicked her nipple with his tongue, making her breath stutter again. 

"Okay. Okay now," she said suddenly, pushing at his shoulders. He looked up, startled, and she smiled reassuringly, then pointed over his shoulder in a sharp command to stand up. "Get all your clothes off right now."

"Now hang on," he said, though his body moved to obey even as he objected. He rolled off the bed and pulled his shirt over his head, then skinned out of his jeans and underwear. "I thought I was in charge here."

Lisa rose gracefully to her feet and shucked her pants. Her underwear matched her bra, because of course it did. "Now Cisco dear," she purred wickedly. "Just what gave you that idea."

He just grinned ruefully and went to her. 

The second time as they sank into the bed, there was no wrestling for domination, no jockeying for position. They kissed and kissed, tasting one another eagerly and hungrily as their hands roamed one another's bodies, learning the spots that delighted the other the most. Cisco licked and sucked at seemingly every inch of Lisa's skin as he worked his way down, and when he buried his face between her thighs, she sighed and groaned with pleasure.

He tasted her sex deeply, licking at her clit and sliding fingers into her. The warm wetness of her arousal eased his way as he worked his fingers in and out, and she groaned.

Soon, she shuddered and she clenched around his fingers. Her head fell back and her body arched, her lips moaning and then crying out Cisco's name as she came. 

She was still panting in reaction, and he had barely had time to lift his head, before she attacked him in return. 

She caught Cisco by the shoulders and pushed him down, kissing him hard as if the taste of her on his lips was a feast. He yelped in surprise and caught her arms, his back hitting the mattress and his legs falling to the sides as she pushed her body between them. 

"You," she murmured, kissing his neck. "Are. The. Sweetest. Thing. I. Have. Ever. Met." She kissed her way down, punctuating each word with her lips against his skin. And at the last word, she took his cock into her mouth, swallowing it down until her nose pushed into the curls at the join of his legs.

"Oh... _fuck_ ," Cisco whined. His hand dropped down, grasping desperately until he caught a lock of her hair between his fingers. She bobbed her head up and down, sucking him like a pro, and he lost his mind completely. All he could do was grab onto whatever he could, and ride it out, until he finally arched and came messily, right down her throat.

He sagged to the bed, panting hard, vaguely aware that Lisa had gotten up. He moaned weakly and reached for her, but she went into the bathroom.

Bereft and suddenly lonely, Cisco pushed himself up onto his elbows. He ran a hand through his mussed hair. Had he done something wrong? He considered going after her - would that make it worse? Was she freaking out?

He was _definitely_ freaking out.

He was one microsecond from jumping up from the bed when Lisa walked back out of the bathroom, naked and perfect and smiling, and carrying a damp towel. She made straight for him. Cisco felt like he might pass out from relief. "Hey babe," she chirped, and climbed onto the bed. "How are you?"

Cisco groaned and collapsed back onto his back, grinning like a fool. "I'm _great_. How are you?"

She kissed his forehead and then dropped the damp towel onto his chest. "Peachy."

Cisco laughed and picked up the towel, using it to wipe the sweat and other fluids from his skin. "That was... amazing, Lisa."

She slipped an arm around him, propping her head up on one hand and gazing at him gently. "Not ruined by Mick?"

He groaned and then laughed, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Mick was... an experience." He lowered his arm and looked at her seriously. "But I'm not in love with Mick."

Lisa stared at him for a few seconds, blinking once. "...Oh..." she said, revelation in her tone. She scooted closer and pressed a kiss to his lips, then tucked her face into his neck. "Oh Cisco. You are like no one else I've ever met."

Cisco considered that for a moment. He lifted a hand, and stroked her hair. "Well, that _might_ be because most of the people you know are jerks."

She snickered. "You might be right about that." Lips pressed warmly to the side of his neck. "You're not a jerk, though."

"Thanks."

They laid like that for a long while, naked and on top of the blankets, but warmed by each other's proximity. Cisco was aware, though, of a rumbling and a discontent running through the house. As they laid together, the house creaked and groaned, the wind slowly rising. He knew Melissa was getting anxious, and he couldn't blame her. Honestly, if he stopped to think about it for too long, the guilt was real. 

He knew what he had to do, though. At least, he sure hoped he did. It was very possible that this was going to blow up in his face, like the Ouija board had done, though that might have worked better if the Tricksters hadn't literally tried to solve their problems with explosives.

Lisa spoke up first. "You want to get up, hmm?"

He smiled ruefully. "No, I don't want to get up. Not ever." He paused. "But ah... do you really know where the locket is, or was all that just to get me into bed?"

"Yes, and yes," Lisa said. She pushed herself up, kissed him hungrily one last time, and then broke away. "Come on, Cisco," she said, sashaying across the room and giving him an _excellent_ view of her back. So much of her yet to explore. "Get your ass in gear. I'm not nearly done with you, yet." 

She picked up something from the dresser and turned around. The locket plummeted from between her fingers and hung, spinning slowly, glittering in the lights. "Let's get rid of the other woman in your life, hmm? Otherwise, I'm going to get jealous."


	27. He's Screwing You Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexing's been had, now for the post-coital angst.

Lisa wrapped the chain of the locket around her wrist to keep it safe while she and Cisco got dressed. She was practically humming with delight, dizzy with happiness - too much, she might have thought before the sweetness that was Cisco Ramon had wormed its way under her defenses and laid them bare, then filled her soul up with candy and rainbows.

Sure, she'd dated before. Biker types and bad boys. They were more than happy to get her attention, but too weak when it came down to it to be anything more than a cheap thrill. She had learned early how to lead them around by the nose and drop them when things stopped being good. And they always did stop being good, one way or another.

Twice, when she'd been a teenager, Lenny had run one off himself. Each time, she'd been angry with him and hadn't spoken to him for a while, telling herself that she could handle her own shit and how _dare_ he sabotage her happiness because he was paranoid and over-protective and controlling. The third time her brother started complaining about a boyfriend, she’d cut Lenny out of her life to keep him from ruining things. But when the asshole had gone at her with his fists, she’d broken his arm and forgiven her brother. 

After that, she had learned to see the signs herself - to end it before things got bad enough that she might have to take harder steps. Even then, Lenny had once been forced to put a bullet in the brain of a mob enforcer who wouldn't leave her alone.

Eventually she just stopped dating. One night stands could be fun, though more often than not she was left finishing herself off at the end of the night, while some beer-soaked former frat boy lay snoring and contented beside her.

Cisco was nothing like any of them. 

Lisa could scarcely believe it. It was like she had lived her whole life in one dark room, and someone had just opened a door and let the sunlight in, saying, "See? There's a whole world of other possibilities out there."

She never wanted to close that door again and the prospect that the choice might not lay entirely in her own hands petrified her. She truly understood, now, why Lenny had fallen so hard for the Flash - and why he was so emotional at any possibility of his boyfriend being harmed. She was mired in that very feeling right now.

Cisco seemed oblivious to all of the emotions swirling around in Lisa's head. He was getting dressed - sitting on the bed, grinning like a dork and pulling on his shoes. She tore her gaze away from him and checked herself in the mirror, running a quick brush through her hair and examining her mascara minutely. No smudges. That waterproof stuff was fantastic.

She turned back towards him with her best, most brilliant smile. "Where do you want to do this - and what are you going to do?"

He jumped to his feet. "Well, I could do it right here, but maybe it's better if everyone is there for it." He smiled in that awkward, self-deprecating way that broke her heart and made her want to kiss him senseless, all at the same time. "Hopefully I won't humiliate myself this time."

"You won't humiliate yourself," Lisa assured him, knowing she was letting her sappy feelings do the talking. She had no idea if he was going to humiliate himself or not.

He grinned sheepishly and they clasped hands once again as they headed out. 

Lisa spotted Lenny coming out of the library, looking flushed and far too pleased with himself. "Lenny!" she called. Flash emerged right behind him, looking mussed and even _more_ pleased. "Gosh, you two look like you've been working _really_ hard finding the locket," she teased. Flash turned redder than his suit and mumbled something.

Lenny turned a cool look on the two of them. "I could say the same thing for you two."

Lisa raised her free hand, and displayed the locket. "But unlike you two lovebirds, _we_ actually found it."

"We also made out," Cisco blurted out. "I ah--" Lenny glared at him. "And there's nothing you can do about it!" he added bravely, though his voice quavered under that stormy gaze.

Lenny turned the glare on Lisa, who met it in kind. "Lisa, we need to talk."

"Actually, we don't," she said.

"Len..." Flash said softly, but Lenny shushed him. 

"Lisa. In here. Now. You two wait outside," Len snapped.

Lisa sighed and let go of Cisco's hand. "I won't be long," she said, rolling her eyes. When Lenny got in a mood like this, there really was just no dissuading him. If he had to vent his spleen, he had to vent his spleen - and it seemed that she'd put it off as long as she could. Best to just get it over with.

Len slipped past his lover and opened the door. Lisa followed him inside, leaving Flash and Cisco standing in the hallway. She expected to receive whatever bullshit he had to serve up right then, but instead Len shut the door behind them and strode deeper into the room. Lisa trailed him with a sigh. It seemed he didn't want to be overheard. This could be bad.

As expected, the moment they reached the far end of the room, Len finally turned towards her. To her surprise, he didn't look angry. His brows were pinched and he pursed his lips, though he made a good attempt to lean against the wall in his usual casual way. His fingers twisted together, though, discontented. "Lisa, are you really sure about this?"

Lisa blew out a breath in frustration. " _What_ am I supposed to be sure about? I know you hate all my boyfriends, Lenny - but surely you can see that this is different? I'm not making the same mistake again!"

"I know, Lise." He straightened up, spreading his hands. "I'm afraid you're making a different mistake."

"Oh screw you, Lenny!" she snapped. He raised his hands in desperation, trying to quiet her down, but she ignored him. "You're the biggest fucking hypocrite on the planet. What, you can bang the Flash, get all of that and be completely happy, but I have to be alone? What do you have against Cisco, anyway? He's the sweetest, kindest person I've ever met, and--"

"I don't have _anything_ against Cisco!"

Lenny's shout overrode her rant, and she fell into a confused silence. "Then why?" she demanded, more quietly. "Why don't you want me to be happy?"

"God damn, Lisa." Lenny ran a hand over his eyes. "The only thing I want is for you to be happy." He gestured towards the door. "Barry has made me happier than I've ever been. He's amazing. He actually _cares_ , and I know Cisco will do the same thing for you. I'm ecstatic about that."

 _Barry, huh?_ Lisa watched Lenny realize that he'd just let his boyfriend's identity slip, and then set that aside. She decided it was best to just pretend that hadn't happened, and file that little tidbit away for later. 

"If you're so happy about it, then why are we talking?" she asked. 

"Because." Lenny glanced over his shoulder, gazing towards the door as if he could see Barry standing there. "Because I am so goddamn happy with him, and every time I see him, I know I'm screwing him up further. I'm putting him through this hell, just so I can spend time with him. I'm asking him to debase himself, humiliate himself, just to be safe, and each time he does it, he gets better at it. I'm changing him." He turned back to Lisa. "Are you really sure you want to do the same thing to Cisco? If you like him so much... I just think you should think about that before it's too late for him."

Lisa thought of several deeply cutting remarks she could have made, but she swallowed them. Instead, she took a page from Cisco and Barry's playbook, and stepped closer to her brother, enfolding him in a hug. He hissed in surprise and stiffened for a moment, but quickly wrapped his arms around her, though she could sense the confused energy vibrating through his body.

"You dummy," she murmured into his neck. "You're not screwing Barry up. He's screwing you up, and it's great. Go with it, brother. One day, you might actually believe you deserve him."

He stiffened up again at her words. "Do you think you deserve Cisco?"

"Hell no."

He chuckled and some of the tension melted away. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?"

Lisa pulled away just enough to give him a kiss on the cheek. "We both are. And so are they. But we're all happy idiots... so maybe it's okay."

Lenny smiled. "Maybe it _is_ okay."

~ ~ ~

Cisco leaned against the wall, trying to look as casual as he _wished_ he were in the hopes that looking casual would help him actually _feel_ like his life wasn't ending. It didn't work. His fingers tapped a nervous tattoo on the wall as he waited for Lisa and Len to return. 

Barry gazed at him with an expression Cisco had a hard time interpreting. He was definitely smiling, though. Smiling was good. Cisco was too scared to smile. Could Snart actually stop Lisa from dating him if that was what she wanted to do? Would she _let_ him?

"So," Barry said finally. "You and Lisa finally did it, huh?"

Cisco looked up, feeling his cheeks heat up, _again_. "Yeah."

Barry grinned. "I'm glad, Cisco. I wasn't so sure Mick was good for you."

"Mick was never _for_ me," Cisco said, his ears now flaming. "I-I mean. Mick was-- you know, really. Intense. But." He stammered to a stop, unable to put it into words.

"But you're not in love with him," Barry finished gently, and that was exactly right.

Cisco squirmed. Why did he feel wretched? "I hope he's okay."

Barry chuckled and glanced down the hall. "I think Mick is pretty much always okay - for his own special definition of okay."

Cisco nodded. He didn't mean to let Mick down, but he had been pretty clear from the beginning. And Mick seemed good with it? He hadn't been shy about voicing his opinion before now. 

But there was someone else's opinion he was far more worried about. He glanced at the door, worrying his lip. "Do you think Snart really hates me?"

Barry blinked in surprise. "What? No. Why would you think he hates you?"

Cisco made a vague, helpless gesture towards the door. "He _hates_ that I want to be with Lisa."

For some reason, Barry grinned. He reached out and put his hand on Cisco's shoulder. "Oh Cisco," he said fondly. "Len doesn't hate you, and he doesn't hate that you want to be with Lisa. He _wants_ this."

Before Cisco could ask Barry what crack he was smoking, the door opened. He jumped and turned to see Snart emerge, with Lisa at his heels. Cisco couldn't parse Len's expression at all - contrary to what Barry claimed, he seemed no less cold and forbidding than before. But just as he turned away, reaching for Barry and tugging him close, Cisco thought he saw a soft smile lift the older man’s features.

"All right, kiddos," Len said. "No more relationship drama - time to use that locket and save Christmas."

Lisa looked as smug as the cat who'd gotten the canary. She slid her arm around Cisco's, tugging him close. "Where are we doing this?"

"Depends." Len glanced back, and Cisco's jaw nearly hit the floor. He _was_ smiling. And he was actually smiling at _Cisco_. "What are we doing, exactly?"

"I...ah..." Cisco struggled to pull himself together. "I'm gonna vibe the locket."

"Sounds fantastic. And that'll stop all this madness?"

"That's the plan."

"Great." Len released Barry, clapping his hands once and rubbing them together. "Go on, Barry. Let everyone know we're meeting in the den."

Barry nodded, and was gone. 

Len glanced at Cisco. "One last thing." He turned towards him and leaned forward. Even with Lisa's presence at his shoulder, Cisco felt his skin go cold at the flinty look in his eye. "Francisco Ramon, you have my blessing." He stuck a finger in Cisco's face. "You can date my sister. But you had _better_ not screw it up, or the last thing you ever see is the blast of my cold gun. Get it?" He put his hand on the handle of his cold gun, as if to punctuate his threat.

It worked. Cisco swallowed very hard and croaked. "I won't screw it up, sir."

"Good. I like that." 

And like that, the menace disappeared. Len grinned fiendishly and straightened up, patting Cisco on the shoulder and then looking at Lisa. "You've picked a good one this time, sis."

"I _know_ ," Lisa purred, giving Cisco a squeeze.

There was a blast of wind as Barry returned. "Everyone's gathering in the den, Len."

"All right." Len nodded and turned away, starting down the stairs. "Let's go."


	28. I Need To Graduate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaand, Cisco saves Christmas

Cisco sat down on the sofa next to Lisa. He expected Barry to join him, but Len claimed a large easy chair nearby and tugged Barry into his lap, nuzzling his neck affectionately. There was something different about the elder Snart since whatever he and Lisa had talked about in the library. He had a soft look on his face that Cisco had never seen, but he suspected Barry might have.

The rest of the Rogues - minus Axel and James - along with Harry and Joe, arrayed themselves around the room, each taking a comfortable spot. As Cisco looked between them all, he saw a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Mark sauntered up brazenly and claimed the seat next to Cisco, who tensed and glared at him. Mark leaned away casually, looking Cisco up and down with a curl to his lip.

"You remember what I said to you before?" he asked.

"Mark--" Lisa began hotly, but Cisco put a hand on her knee to quiet her. He knew if he was going to date Lisa, he had to be accepted by the other Rogues, and that included the really murderous ones. He couldn't rely on her to save him every time.

"I remember," he said, lifting his chin. "I also remember punting you up to the roof."

"Yeah," Mark said, eyes narrowing. "I remember that, too. I just wanna say, I'm not gonna forget what you did. No matter how much she likes you, you're not one of us."

Cisco's heart was beating a rapid tattoo against his ribs. "Good, because I don't forget what you did, either," he said. Mark was a homicidal maniac, and it was best that no one on Team Flash forgot it. "Now if you're done." Cisco arched a brow and jerked his head. "I think you're in someone's way."

Mark blinked as a shadow fell on him and turned around to see Mick Rory looming over him. "You're in my seat, Voldie," Mick rumbled, dropping a hand down to rest on Mark's shoulder and giving a squeeze. Mark winced.

"Fine, fine," he said, and scrambled to his feet, glaring. "Me and Ramon were just having a nice chat."

"Yeah, it was super nice," Cisco said sarcastically. "You can go away, now."

To his shock, Mark did exactly that. He retreated and sat down some distance away, still glaring faintly, but he didn't meet Cisco's eyes. He hunched forward and scowled at the floor, fingers clasped together.

Seat now empty, Mick plunked himself down. He still smelled strongly of smoke. "What're we doin'?" he asked. "Another board game?"

"Not this time," Cisco said, smiling faintly. He glanced at Lisa and held out his hand, and she dropped the locket into it. "Uh, if everything goes well, none of you should see anything, but it's also possible the ghost will react, so everybody be ready. Just...give me a few minutes, and I'll see what I can do."

Now he was getting nervous again. He was used to Vibing with an audience, but he had never done it with such open hostility and skepticism all around him. In particular, the people right in front of him would all like nothing more than to hurt him, and also didn't understand what his powers could do. Though Mark Mardon glared mostly at the floor, the Mist and Rainbow Raider were more open with their scowls.

Cisco took a moment to breathe and try to focus on what he was doing. He glanced from face to face. While the Rogues in front of him were hostile, around them were his friends and allies. Barry and Joe, Hartley and Harry, and even Len. And on either side of him were the warm presences of two people he knew would go particularly far to protect him. Mick's solidity at his right was powerful and reassuring. Lisa on his left pressed close with real affection, and he knew she'd stand by him no matter what.

He wasn't alone. Not by a long shot.

"Okay," he said. "Wish me luck."

Cisco closed his eyes and curled his fingers around the locket, feeling the ridges bite into his palm. He drew a breath in, and Vibed.

~ ~ ~

Cisco opened his eyes. 

He was still in the den, but the scene had completely changed and taken on a dark, ethereal quality. The tree was lit, but the coloured lights strobed and wobbled unnaturally, barely fighting back the darkness. All around him stood strangers, most of them teenagers, a few familiar from the last time he had been shown visions by the ghost in the house. But this time, instead of laughing and warm, they stood still and frozen, ice covering their faces and frost marking their clothes.

"Melissa?" Cisco called. He rose and turned in a circle, searching. "Melissa!"

"You can see me?"

Cisco whirled and saw the woman who had been haunting his dreams. She wore a pink dress with a plunging neckline, displaying the locket hung around her neck. Like everyone else around her, she was as pale as death, her skin as blue as ice.

"I see you," Cisco said. He took a step towards her, then another. The crowd parted around him, clearing a path towards the girl. "My name's Cisco. I'm here to help you."

Tears glimmered in her eyes, which were sunken deeply into hollow sockets. "You can help me? How?"

"First, you've gotta tell me what happened," he said. "What's the last thing you remember before things got strange."

"I..." She drew a breath and let it out, her breath misting in front of her face. Despite the ice all around, Cisco felt no chill this time. In fact, he felt nothing. "I was at the party, at my grandmother's old house. And then, there was this horrible sound." 

She turned towards the window and pointed. "I saw that."

Cisco peered through the window and saw a terrible light on the horizon. Once again, just as in the last vision, he heard the rumbling - quiet still, but getting louder. "Central City is that way," he said softly. Of course, there was no other explanation. "That's the explosion at STAR Labs."

"I went outside to look," Melissa said. 

Cisco turned to her. "Show me what you saw."

She furrowed her brow as if she didn't know what he meant, but in the next moment, the vision swirled around them. They shot through the lobby as if on wheels and the door opened before them. They trotted together down the front steps, their feet crunching in the snow. The wind swirled around them, but the skies were clear, stars dotting the blackness and the moon high and full above.

Melissa wrapped her arms around herself and looked up in the direction of the glow. "Then I saw the cloud."

Cisco followed the direction of her gaze, and his breath stopped in his throat. He had caught a glimpse of this in the previous vision, but outside, it was a thousand times more frightening. Even against the blackness of the sky, he could see the monstrous, hungry cloud of dark matter spreading out across the city. It sped towards them through the night, coming inexorably closer, inescapably fast.

"What is that?" Melissa gasped.

"The dark matter wave, from the explosion," Cisco said. He had been inside STAR Labs at the time and hadn't seen it, but there was no question in his mind. 

Melissa seemed not to hear him. "I ran," she breathed. She whirled and raced back up the steps, and Cisco was pulled as if on a track along with her. "But the door--" She grabbed the knob and twisted, and pulled, but it only rattled in the door frame. She pounded on the wood, but to no avail.

"It was locked," Cisco said. "It locked behind you."

"I had to hide," she sobbed. She fled, towards the hedge maze. "I thought maybe the hedges would protect me."

Together, they raced through the maze, branches scratching at their bare arms. The dark matter overtook them, and Melissa threw herself down into the snow, covering her head uselessly. 

Cisco watched as the dark matter passed over and through them. Melissa lay still, growing cold in the snow, in her little dress. The blood trickling from a scratch on her arm stopped, and froze.

Melissa stood up, leaving her body behind in the snow. She turned to Cisco. "Please, Cisco," she said. "I don't know what to do. I think I died in the snow, but now I can't leave. I can't talk to anyone. Sometimes I get so angry... but no one knows I'm here. You're the only person who ever noticed me. I don't understand what's happened to me."

Cisco reached out and took her hand. It was cold and dry, but not icy this time. This time, he had control.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "When STAR Labs exploded, the dark matter that was emitted touched some people in a certain way. It gave me the ability to talk to you like this. For you, I think it allowed you to leave your body, maybe like some kind of astral projection. It's actually really cool - it totally brings up questions about life and death and whether we have a soul..." 

Her face twisted with horror and confusion, and he reminded himself that geeking out was likely not appropriate at this particular moment. 

He drew a breath and continued. "Anyway, I think because you died shortly after the explosion, you've somehow gotten anchored here at the house. You can affect what people experience here, but you can't return to your body, because it's gone."

"They took it away," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I tried putting the locket inside my room, so they’d realize something had happened to me, but no one noticed."

"Your family and friends couldn't tell that you were still here, but it wasn't their fault."

The truth was, he didn't know exactly what to do. He knew something he could try, but he didn't know if it would work or not. He could see two possible outcomes - either she would die for real, or he would have helped her in a tangible way.

Maybe that was for the best, though, no matter how it turned out.

Cisco’s stomach churned at the choice he was making, but he did his best to maintain a comforting smile. He squeezed her hand gently, and she gripped him back, tightly and desperately, like she was drowning. "Melissa, I know things have been rough for you. I don't know if I can fix what happened to you, but I'm going to try."

She threw her arms around him. "Thank you! Oh god, I’ve been so fucking lonely."

He held her close for a few moments. She wasn't warm, exactly, but she also wasn't cold like before. It was almost like hugging one of those life-sized dolls from Japan. One that was crying into his neck.

"One thing though," he said. "If it doesn't work, I need you to let us go home. I know you didn't want us to leave, because heck... I get it. You hoped we'd help. I get you were desperate, but you can't just keep us all here."

She stiffened in his grasp and pulled back, looking into his face with an expression of naked fear. "I... I know, but..." She trailed off, and turned her head to the side, looking away guiltily. "At least when you're there, I have something to look at, voices to hear. It’s so quiet when the house is empty."

"I get it," Cisco repeated. "Even so, promise me that you'll let us go. No more visions. No more making us believe we've left. And in return, I promise that you won't be completely alone."

She looked up at him again, hope blossoming in her corpse-pale eyes. "You'll come back?"

His lips twisted in a wry smile. "I'm not moving in. But I will make sure that people are there regularly. You have to treat them right, though. No more exploding Christmas trees."

Mistrust warred with hope. "How do I know you won't just leave and never come back? I thought you were going to fix me, anyway! I want to go back to my family, my home. I need to graduate."

Cisco released her and held up his hands. "Look. I can't promise things'll be back to normal. But I will do what I can to make it bearable. You're just gonna have to trust me on this."

She wavered, hands twisting in the fabric of her dress. "I don't even know you, but..." She looked back towards the house thoughtfully. There was a sudden lurch, and Cisco was back in the den, seated where he had been, between Lisa and Mick. Everyone in the room was silent, watching him closely. The only difference was Melissa, standing in the centre of the room, looking down at him. "Everyone here seems to think you're a nice person," she said. "Though a lot of them really don't seem like they are."

"I am," Cisco said, rising to his feet again. "I won't abandon you."

"Okay," she said. She stopped fidgeting and straightened, pushing her dark brown bangs out of her face and straightening her hair with a brush of her hands. "What do I have to do?"

Cisco hesitated, then held out his hands to her. "Take my hands, and close your eyes," he said. "And trust me."

She did.

As they clasped hands, Cisco paused a moment, gathering his strength. He had never even considered doing anything like this before, and he had no idea if it would work. But in theory, it might. It was a little like taking someone through one of his portals. He just had to pull back from the Vibe, and take her with him.

It would either kill her... or something else.

He drew a breath, and stepped back out of the vision, holding tight to her hands.

~ ~ ~

Cisco opened his eyes. 

Everyone was staring at him expectantly. 

"Uh... did anything happen?" he asked weakly.

"Hello?" A soft, female voice echoed through the house. Everyone in the room stiffened and looked all around them in shock and confusion. 

Cisco whooped and jumped to his feet. He trotted to the mirror over the mantelpiece. "Melissa! See if you can come to this mirror."

The mirror fogged and frosted over, and then cleared, showing the face of the girl who had died on this property in the middle of the STAR Labs incident. She was smiling. "Can you see me?"

"Woah." Mick lurched over to look over Cisco's shoulder. "Lookin' good, girlie. You the one who's been making everything so cold around here?"

Melissa looked sheepish. "Sorry about that. You're all welcome to stay and finish your party, but if any of you want to leave, I won't stop you."

The rest of the Rogues and Team Flash crowded around. Cisco made introductions. Lisa loudly announced that she was going to break out the egg nog, and start dinner. Soon, people began to lose interest and drifted away, some of them roped into helping with dinner, some starting up games. Hartley commandeered the iPod and began playing indie covers of Christmas carols.

Len and Barry wandered over after a few minutes. Len had his arm cinched tightly around Barry's waist, and the two of them looked more relaxed and contented than Cisco had seen them since their arrival. "You did good, kid," Len said with a grin, and chucked him on the shoulder. "You think she'll behave herself now that you've done whatever you did?"

"I can hear you, you know!" Melissa said cheerfully. 

Len cocked his head, looking past Cisco into the mirror. "Then answer the question. You gonna behave?"

"So long as you all don't just abandon me," she said, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. 

"Yeah, I had a thought about that," Len said, and glanced back, looking over the gathering. "I might buy the place."

Cisco's jaw dropped, and Barry looked no less astonished. "Len," Barry exclaimed. "You're going to buy the cabin? Why? You're not exactly into real estate."

Len shrugged. "I have the money. It's out of the way and well-maintained. We can use it for future gatherings. And heck, maybe I have it in me to turn it into a tourist attraction." He turned to Cisco. "What do you think? 'Captain Cold's Haunted Mansion'. We can have Nimbus swirl around and scare people, and have Baez come popping out of closets, while Mark makes thunder and lightning in all weathers."

Cisco's mouth worked for a few seconds. "You-- you actually would have them-- No. No you wouldn't." There was a mischievous gleam in Len's eye, and his lips were twitching more and more with every word out of Cisco’s mouth. 

Barry punched Len in the shoulder. "Jerk."

They all laughed.

"I really am going to buy it, though," Len said. He tipped his glass towards the mirror. "Assuming you don't have any problem with that, do you Missy?"

"I don't mind," she said.

Len nodded, as if the deal was already done. "Peachy." He nodded to Cisco and turned away, tugging Barry along with him. "Now, I need another drink."

Cisco remained by the fireplace, keeping the teenaged metahuman company. "I know this isn't what you were hoping for," he said apologetically, once he was relatively sure no one else was paying attention to them. "But with your body being dead, I think it's the best I can do."

She smiled and shook her head. "It's okay. Now that I can actually talk to people, I don't think it's going to be so bad. This is better than dying."

"I'm glad," he said, grinning. "And I figure, if Snart does follow through with that haunted house thing... with a confirmed ghost living in the house, this place will be a sensation. Tourists galore! You'll have a constant stream of people coming through."

She laughed, and the house shivered in response. This time, the sound was less ominous, more like a playful wind swirling around the eaves. "I'll have to decide just how to scare them best." She sobered. "Thank you, Cisco. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"No problem," Cisco assured her. "What happened wasn't your fault. You were just trying to get our attention."

She nodded, looking at something over his shoulder. "I think someone else wants your attention." With that, she faded away.

Cisco turned. Lisa was approaching with a glass of egg nog, beaming. “Here you go, babe.”

“Thanks, Lisa.” He took the glass with one hand, and slipped the other arm around her waist. “Melissa’s gonna let us finish out the holiday, and won’t stop us from going if we want. I did pretty good, huh?”

She kissed him softly. “You did great.” She drew back and cocked her head, a mischievous gleam in her eye that exactly matched the one her brother had displayed only minutes earlier. "Now then... the roast is in the oven, and my minions are busy working. I have a few minutes _just_ for you."

Cisco grinned, warmed all the way through. "How many minutes exactly?"

She leaned a little closer, voice dropping seductively. "Enough."

"There'll never be enough," he said. Then he set down his glass on the mantel and took a step away from Lisa, breaking their embrace, then he grinned. "Race you."

He took off running, and Lisa shrieked with surprise and delight. She kicked off her heels and overtook him in a moment, taking the lead as they pounded up the stairs. Cisco surged forward and grabbed her around the waist. Wrestling and laughing, they ran to Lisa's room, and the door opened before they could reach it, then slammed shut and locked behind them.

For the next several minutes - and maybe a bit longer than they meant to - they found quite a few ways to amuse themselves.


	29. Epilogue

The rest of the week passed by smoothly. Harry and Joe left before dinner the night that Cisco Vibed the locket, and the Tricksters were sent away the following morning. Len made a point of telling them that they weren’t invited to next year’s shindig.

Barry had a funny feeling that an invitation wouldn’t make much difference to whether or not they showed up.

There was an auction, but no people were auctioned off. Mark didn’t even complain about it - at least, not out loud.

Cisco and Lisa spent a lot of time together, and not all of it was ensconced in Lisa’s room. Barry had never seen Cisco so happy - nor Lisa so relaxed and affectionate. And Len was clearly ecstatic about it. Even the Rogues could tell that Len was different, but they didn’t seem to hold it against him. There was some ribbing, but so far as Barry could tell it was good-natured.

To his relief, the Rogues seemed to accept Cisco the way that they had accepted Barry. He wasn’t one of them, but he was allowed to be among them without open hostility.

Living with a ghost was pretty neat when the ghost was on your side. 

Melissa opened doors for you and closed them, and made sure you didn’t stub your toes if you got up to pee in the middle of the night. She kept the weather around the house warm enough to enjoy a snowball fight, but not so warm that the snow melted. In return, all she seemed to need was some conversation - which the Rogues were more than happy to provide. Melissa talked and laughed with them from the mirrors and windows, and sometimes other reflective surfaces - such as once, memorably, Hartley’s wine glass, causing Hartley to spill his wine down his front in surprise. She only did that once.

On New Year’s Eve, Mick produced a large crate of fireworks. They all stood at a hopefully safe distance while he smoked a gigantic cigar and methodically lit each one and sent it up into the sky. Barry had never seen him more content.

Barry and Len sat curled together on a lawn chair, heads tipped back to watch the colourful explosions. “Hey Len, we’re going home tomorrow, huh?”

Len grunted, which told Barry that he didn’t like that particular subject. 

But Barry pressed on. “This has been a really great week.”

Len glanced at him, eyebrow arched. “Which part? The part where your foster father nearly died in the snow, or the part when the idiot Tricksters tried to burn the place down.”

“All of it,” Barry said with a grin. Len’s face was lit green, then red, then blue as the fireworks exploded overhead. “Especially the part where I got to spend it with you. I hope we get to do it all again next year.”

Len’s lips spread in a grin. “Oh, I think we can arrange that.”

Barry settled back against Len’s chest and gazed up at the heavens. To their right, Cisco and Lisa cuddled, speaking softly with their foreheads pressed together. Maybe it was complicated, loving a Rogue, but for right now, it was worth it.

“One thing, though,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t get yourself thrown in jail this year, okay? I missed you while you were gone.”

Len rumbled a laugh. “No promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for continuing to come along with me on this wild ride! I know my updates got slow in parts when life got insane for me - I certainly never intended to take a year to write this story - but I never lost interest and never gave up on the story. I just enjoyed writing it so much, and it's really all the comments and appreciation that you readers gave me throughout the process that really kept me going.
> 
> I do have a third installment planned, so...stay tuned!


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